If Rick Had Met Vivian
by Elle Winnie
Summary: It's the beginning of Degrassi's 2004-2005 school year, and Vivian Graham is a 10th Grade transfer student from Chicago. Coincidentally, it's also the year of Rick Murray's return, one guy that creates so much turmoil for Degrassi's student body. Where does Vivian's bias lie? How will her presence change the outcome of Degrassi's fate?
1. Welcome to the Drama

**"I wonder how much about what Paige said about him was true. If it is, I've stumbled across some serious high school drama."  
**

* * *

Two weeks.

That feels like a long time while attending Degrassi Community School in Toronto, Canada. I must say, I never thought I'd be in Canada, but due to my father's sales job, we moved from our hometown in Chicago to Toronto, which isn't a terribly long distance.

When I looked at this strange new brick building for the first time- yellow and baby blue-tinted windows tiling the upper half; two sets of glass double doors sitting on the bottom half; and a banner separating the two with large silver letters that read DEGRASSI COMMUNITY SCHOOL—I could only imagine what my life would be like beyond that point. When I saw students in their denim pants and t-shirts scattering about, moving in and out of the doors, I reassured myself that Canada wasn't at all a strange northern version of Antarctica. Least not in Toronto, Ontario.

On the first day, dad kissed me square on my forehead and hugged me tightly. "You'll have a great experience here." He said softly into my ear.

I hugged him back. "This is so strange. I don't know what to feel." Actually I was terrified, but I didn't tell dad that.

Dad kissed my hair and we let each other go. "I love you." He said.

"I love you more."

I watched my dad drive away in his blue mini-van, and inhaled.

That was the point of no return.

So that was two weeks back, and I've adjusted well since then. I've learned that I didn't have to use my "magic petite powers" to swerve through hoards of people who filled the hallways like at my old school. Being only 4'10'' and 92 lbs, I was proud of my little advantage. Now it's unnecessary, unless there's a commotion going on. Anyway, I've had the pleasure of making two good friends. The first is named Queenie Parker, who's short too, but taller than me, and my other friend's name is Ivory, the tallest of us three at 5'4''.

I've mostly become well acquainted with Queenie with her honest feedback and her spontaneity, and to top it all she's down to earth. She's officially my girl crush. Ivory has a great sense of humor, and possesses a passion for everything she does, which I also find admirable.

Other classmates treat me nicely as well. Toby, for instance, doesn't hesitate to hold the door open for me every time he sees an opportunity. J.T., short for James Tiberius (sorry to disappoint you, ladies), finds ways to make me laugh, even though he's a little juvenile. I've also spoken with a girl they call…Manny? Yeah, something like that. Again, she's a short girl, but taller than I, with inky, thick long hair like a lion's. The numbers of people I've spoken to in this brief time are all a blur, but what I do know is that most people I do like, and others I don't.

Now I'm sitting on the stairs in front of the school on this warm, sunny day. I close my eyes and drink in the leaf-scented breeze that's cool as it laps at my face.

"Someone tell me I'm hallucinating."

My eyes snap open. Apparently not everyone is enjoying this day. I recognize the voice as Paige Michalchuk's. It's too snooty to belong to anyone else's.

I turn around and see her standing behind me with a group of other students who I'm unfamiliar with except for Marco Del Rossi, a small, tan Italian guy with dark hair with bangs swept across his face. I also see a tall, slender blonde join them, her hair also in bangs. I recognize her from my English class. Is her name…Emma?

"Remember Terri McGregor? The girl that was in a coma last year?" says a kid standing next to Paige with wavy hair the color of muddy hay.

"He's the psycho who put her there." Paige says. "His name's Rick. Her ex. He used to beat her."

Huh? What? Who?

"Yeah, and he's _your_ new classmate, Emma: he starts 10th grade tomorrow." The dirty blonde says.

I tune out of the conversation. Who are they talking about? Where is he? I grab my backpack, throw it over my shoulder and stand up. Sure enough, I see the Rick kid standing with his mother as they talk with the principal, Mr. Raditch. I glance at Paige and her flock and notice them glaring in his direction. Bingo.

I stare at the kid. He doesn't appear threatening. He has mouse brown hair down to his shoulders and round, Harry Potter glasses on his face, which complement his decent-sized nose. He has semi-full sized lips, and his cheeks are rosy in the sunlight. At a first glance, he seems to be on the quiet side, and he even looks a little nervous as he wears a tiny glare on his face (or maybe it's just the glare of the sun). He isn't very tall either, or very muscular. I wonder how much about what Paige said about him was true. If it is, I've stumbled across some serious high school drama.*

* * *

**Housekeeping: Some of the chapters contain some dialogue from some of the episodes of Degrassi season 4; Vivian Graham's the narrator; because she's a new student, she doesn't know all of the principal characters (in case anyone is confused). I am a disclaimer of the duplicated dialogue from the series, and the Degrassi characters. Asterisks (*) indicate the end of a chapter, should I add notes at the end.**


	2. The Rick Kid

**"Is that boy really a threat to the student body?"  
**

* * *

"Who's Rick?" I ask Queenie as we walk to school from her house the next day.

"I don't know what you're getting at." Queenie raises one of her eyebrows.

"Oh, sorry." I say. "Apparently there's this kid who's at school today, and he apparently beat up a girl last year or something."

"Oh, Rick Murray!" exclaims Queenie. "You know, I thought it was just a rumor that he was returning to Degrassi, but it's actually true!" she shakes her head. "He's got quite the history from last year."

"What history?" We've approached a crosswalk with the school looking out at us from the other side. The light finally turns green for the pedestrians and we scurry across the street and climb the front stairs of Degrassi into the building.

"Hello, Queenie?" I nudge my friend. "What are you talking about with Rick's history?"

Queenie presses her pointer against her lips. "Not so loud when you're talking about someone else. I'll tell you later. I need to talk to Ms. Sauvé right now." I watch her nearly dash across the lobby and turn left as a mass of students swallows her up, eliminating her from sight.

_Fine: I'll figure this out for myself_.

So it appears that all I have to go by is Paige's word about Rick. It sounds as if he was abusive to his ex-girlfriend, whoever she is or was, and if she ended up in a coma because of him, it must mean that he was really dangerous, or _is_ really dangerous. So why is he back? What is he looking for? Does anyone in charge at Degrassi know about this? Ugh, damn these dancing questions in my head! I shake my head to clear it.

"Hey, Vivian."

Abruptly I turn and see Emma, the skinny blonde I saw yesterday afternoon. She's wearing a navy-colored, collared, short sleeve shirt and a denim mini-skirt. She's sitting on a set of wide stairs that lead into the gymnasium, towards the left of the main entrance.

I walk over. "What's up?"

"I'm waiting for Paige and Spinner." She replies. "Marco and Alex, two other upperclassmen, are talking to Raditch about a kid in our school. We're trying to get rid of him."

"What kid?" I know very well who she's talking about.

"Rick Murray." She replies through this nearly vacant expression. "He was abusive to his girlfriend last year and nearly killed her, and we don't want him to hurt anyone else."

She said this in monotone, as if she was reciting a story rather than something that—supposedly—happened in real life. Now I'm really starting to question the reality of what happened. Is that boy really a threat to the student body?

"You okay?" Emma asks me.

I shake my head. "I'm great." Giant lie. Something's vague about this entire situation, and I want to clear it up. It's like I have no life, but tapping into this adds drama to it. I wasn't here last year to say what Rick did or didn't do, so I have to find answers for myself. I want to kick myself for playing Nancy Drew, but I don't accept things as the truth just because someone tells me.

Sighing, I pop a squat next to Emma. "I'm curious about how this conversation will go." That and I want to talk to Marco about student council applications. He told me on the day he was elected president that applications would be available after campaigning season ended completely. This is a perfect opportunity to ask him about it.

Soon, Paige and the dirty blonde who I assume is Spinner show up. "This had better turn out well." Paige storms over to the step beneath Emma and mine's and Spinner follows her. She doesn't acknowledge us as she sits down.

"It doesn't matter." Spinner says. "_We'll_ do something if Raditch doesn't."

They appear a little more passionate about "No Rick Allowed" than Emma, which leads me to believe that they were well acquainted with the girl he hurt. That makes sense. If my friend's abusive boyfriend put her in a coma, and he was returning to the school…

Wait—he's allowed to return to school? If Rick hurt that girl so seriously that she ended up in a coma, shouldn't he be in jail? Juvenile detention? Domestic abuse is against the law—least in the United States. Doesn't the same apply for Canada? So what happened? I don't want to ask Paige or Spinner: it's a sore spot for the both of them, and I doubt Emma knows any more than I do. I sigh in despair. Sounds like the girl in the coma transferred, so at least she's safe from Rick, but Nancy Drew is still on the case.

"'_I always knew you were a smart boy, Marco.'_ Can you believe he said that?" Marco and the girl with him, who's probably Alex, show up. Marco was imitating Raditch, which only means one thing.

Rick Murray stays.

"Wow, you guys really handled Raditch." Emma comments sarcastically as they sit down.

I also notice another guy who greets Spinner with a fist bump sit down. I don't know him at all: he's really tall and pretty skinny, with poufy hair, blossoming into a fro. He has a tan complexion and is wearing a sports jacket. Definitely a jock.

"Psycho at twelve o'clock." Spinner says.

I look up. Rick is in the building scanning the lobby, and he looks in our direction. Gradually he makes his way towards us. Oh, boy. I can see his blue, plaid, short-sleeve button down baggy on his figure. He's also wearing a gray t-shirt underneath, with matching gray pants and sneakers.

"Marco, Paige, Spinner, Jimmy." He greets four of us, voice light and perky. I look around and see all of them, including Emma and Alex, glaring at him in return.

If looks could kill, Rick would be sliced up. Goosebumps cover my skin as a stony cold silence fills the air around us. There's a tension as thick as smoke in the room. I can only sit awkwardly and watch Rick's expression fall from an almost smile to a complete frown, and he walks away. Suddenly Emma hops up from the ledge next to me and follows Rick. I watch as she blocks his path.

I've never felt so confused and helpless. What just happened? It's like I'm watching television. The only thing I do know is that it's best if Rick stays away from this group of people while he's at Degrassi.

Why did he return in the first place?


	3. Warriors in Orange

**"Thanks to Emma's protest, Rick's Violent behavior is now a public affair."**

* * *

Queenie introduces me to chips and ketchup: two foods that are all-American, and yet they've never hooked up. Welcome to Canada, Vivian, an awesome place. Now all it takes for me to douse hunger is a bag of Lays and a bottle of Heinz, and the rest is history. Earlier I asked Queenie to place a restraining order between me and the chips. She told me that could be arranged.

I've asked her for assistance with my student council application that Marco gave me earlier today. I want to stand out, but I don't know how.

"Hmm…it's been two weeks since I've known you? Not a very long time to really get acquainted with a person." Queenie says.

"Yeah, well these people have to become acquainted with me through my _first_ impression: a piece of paper."

"Touché." Queenie agrees. "Listen, Vivian, I'm always prepared for these types of questions because there's been a unique quality in everyone I've befriended; therefore you have a unique quality that sets you apart from other people."

I'm having a sleepover at her townhouse. Her tiny room is decorated in a sunflower theme. Her walls are painted a sky blue, decorated with floating sunflowers. Her pale green comforter also has sunflower heads, and it stands out against the white carpet. It's a pretty room, but it would suck if Queenie got a stain in it anywhere.

"Seriously Vivian; you have an _incredible_ aura about you." Queenie continues. "Your smile is as bright as the sun, and you light up a room once you walk into it. Have you forgotten that _you_ asked me if _I _needed help getting to my chemistry class even though it was _your_ first time ever in Canada, let alone a new school?"

"You're just as amazing." I tell her.

"Why thank you." She says.

"Speaking of which, why don't _you_ apply for StuCo?"

Queenie pauses "Who, me? I'm not really interested."

"Why not? You're such an inspirational person, and you could develop great leadership skills from doing so." I tell her.

"You're so optimistic about things, girly." Queenie flicks my hair. "Write that on your application. You see, I think activities like student council are all popularity contests, and I don't think a person should be elected to join based on popular vote."

"Why not?" I say. "Isn't that the whole point to student council: the _students_ have a voice?"

"Sure", Queenie answers. "If the students voted fairly, I'd probably be in favor for it, but…not all voting high school students are reasonable: they're selfish."

"How so?"

"They sometimes only vote based on who looks better to them, no matter what your personality looks like. If you look good, then you're good enough to be on the council. Not to mention having some popularity status."

"Okay then, but you're lucky to help me out." I say. "Because I plan on changing the student body community forever." I laugh after saying it just because I sound ridiculous.

Queenie nods. "I believe you."

I look at her. She's staring at me with a lost look on her face. It's the serious I've ever seen her. I turn away to fill out my application.

_Next Day..._

Today there are so many orange ribbons going by worn by my fellow students. They're designed much like breast cancer ribbons only a pale, creamy colored orange. Curiosity is compelling me: where did they get them from?

I stop a student in the hallway. She looks annoyed as if because I'm short I'm a pest who couldn't be up to any good.

"That orange ribbon on your shirt: where did you get it from?" I ask her. "I'm seeing everyone with them."

"There are two blondes in the lobby walking around and sellin' them for a buck." She answers then walks away.

_What a vivid description_, I think, but I have a hunch at who one of the two blondes may be: Emma. Queenie told me about her campaigns and protests from the past. The other blonde could be anybody. I head to the lobby to see them in person. The number of people with ribbons multiplies drastically, and I have to use my magic petite powers to swerve through the mass of students. In the heart of the orange lace I spot the two blondes: Emma and Paige.

"Hey, you wanna buy a ribbon?" Paige asks me.

"What for?" I ask.

"To support students against violence." Emma answers. "Show the school where you stand."

I shrug and reach into my purse.

"This is about Rick isn't it?"

I look up to see a guy in a baggy gray jacket with a white tank top underneath. He has short blonde hair and round pale blue eyes. There's a girl with long red hair standing beside him dressed form head to toe in black. She's wearing long sleeves in spite of the September heat.

"It's a silent protest." Emma answers the guy. "We wanna pressure Rick. Make his life hell."

"Without breaking any of the rules whatsoever. Emma's a genius." Paige elaborates. "There's nothing Raditch can do."

"Wow." The red head's sarcastic. "Such heroes." She and the blonde guy walk on.

"Aah, come on." I say. "I left my wallet at home." I'm lying to them. How can I participate in a protest when I don't even have all of the details straight about what's going on?

"Here." Emma hands me a ribbon anyway. "Pay me later. The proceeds go to the Directions Women's Shelter."

I nod. I don't mind donating, but I'm NOT for the cause that Emma and Paige are promoting. I'm too confused about what's going on to choose a side. I still don't know all of the details of the abuse, even though I'm positive Rick was responsible for it.

I walk away, baffled and a little anxious about what's to come. Are Emma and Paige REALLY trying to kick Rick out of a public facility? How dangerous is he, or how dangerous do they think he is? I have to get to the heart of the matter, and _then_ I'll determine whether or not Rick is a threat to my safety.

I communicate with Emma in my Chemistry class via old-fashioned note passing. I want answers about this "silent" protest. There's one student between Emma and me in class, so the note doesn't have to travel a long distance, which would make it riskier. I pass the first note discretely behind the back of my chair so as not to disturb the class.

_Tell me what you mean by pressuring Rick_.

That's what my note reads. I've placed the orange ribbon on my notebook, and I'm staring at it now, waiting for Emma's response. I'm left to conclude that the boy being "pressured" is really dangerous if Emma is involving a majority of the student body to kick him out. I have to find out more, so Ms. Hatzilakos can't know about this. I'm reading over my lab assignment and highlighting important notes to divert her suspense from me.

A pencil taps my leg. The boy sitting between Emma and me hands me a new note. I take it, and watch cautiously for Ms. H. She's scolding a kid for chewing gum. Quickly I unfurl the note.

_We don't want him at Degrassi, so we're gonna ostracize him, making him feel like he's not welcome._

I write under her reply in bright red ink: _Who's we?_

I nudge the boy with my foot and give him the note underhand. Soon the note is returned with the response:

_Everyone with an orange ribbon_.

I briefly glance around the class. There are some students—no, a lot of students—wearing a ribbon, and according to Emma, ALL of these students are going to ostracize ONE? That would definitely succeed. Who'd want to stay in a school where everyone hated them?

_But is this the right thing?_ I pat the guy's arm, thanking him as he served for our note's transportation. Coincidentally, I also spot him wearing a ribbon. What are all these people going to do to just one? Thanks to Emma's protest, Rick's violent behavior is now a public affair.

As soon as the bell rings and everyone scatters, I feel a tap on my shoulder from behind. I turn and see Emma standing there. "You certainly had a lot of questions." She says.

I nod. "Sorry to pester you; I think it's good to be inquisitive. That and I'm pretty new here, so I'm not familiar with your famous protests I've heard so much about."

Emma smirks. "So this is your first time witnessing an Emma campaign."

"Live from Toronto." Reporter Vivian replies.

"Well brace yourself." Emma sweeps a lock of her hair over her shoulder. "The exciting part is yet to come." She walks away, head high, stride confident.

I hope what she said was a good thing.

The orange ribbons are gung ho about getting rid of Rick. As I go to my locker to grab supplies, I catch him walking past me down the hall. Today he's wearing a long-sleeve, black and white-checkered button down with a white t-shirt underneath. He's wearing dark gray pants and the gray shoes from the other day.

He's heading towards the double doors that lead to the next corridor, but before he can reach them, a group of girls—all wearing ribbons—blocks his path. He attempts to weave around them, but more show up, and they all glare at him with their arms crossed. They almost look like secret service agents guarding the entrance to The White House. Finally, Rick turns back and walks the other way, only to be bumped in the shoulder on purpose by a tall, blonde girl. Rick pauses, suppressing a sigh, then proceeds down the hall.

_Ouch_, I think.

It doesn't stop there. Rick happens to walk in the same direction I am as I head to gym class. I'm a few feet behind him when I notice a girl approach him from his right and knock the books he's holding from his hand. He kneels to pick them up, but another girl kicks them away from his grasp, and it nearly intersects with my shin. The air from the kick brushes my lower leg as I avoid the collision in time.

But I walk on, not daring to look back at Rick.

* * *

I have a feeling that the next anti-Rick strike will happen in the cafeteria, should Rick have a lunch break at this hour. I'm sitting with my friends, Queenie and Ivory. Ivory's name fits her complexion to the "t". She has long, wavy auburn hair and round green eyes. She's wearing a short, collared denim jumpsuit and golden scandals. I almost want to trade her outfit with mine: my raspberry colored tank top; my sky blue cover up; my pale yellow mini-skirt; and my silver scandals. Then again, I like my outfit just a little bit more. Neither of my two friends is wearing a ribbon, which is somewhat of a relief to me due to all of the drama that Emma's campaign has caused.

"So talk, little Vivian." Ivory says as we chow on less-than-decent food in the cafeteria. Good news: Canada and U.S. are more alike than you think.

"Yeah, sunshine." Queenie joins in. "We know when something's troubling you, even this soon in our friendship." She pinches my cheek, and I slap her hand away.

"Stop or you'll regret me having fast reflexes." I say.

"I'm shaking, now are you ready to tell us what's on your mind?" Ivory asks.

"No pressure from you guys, right?" I say as I nearly drink my entire carton of chocolate milk in one sitting. I'm so glad I don't have to go to rehab for my serious addiction.

"We never said that." Queenie says nonchalantly.

"Smart alec." I swipe both her and Ivory's plastic utensils from their grasps, knowing they both need them for the soup they each have. "Here's the deal, ladies: stop two-timing me and I'll tell you."

"Deal." They both say and take back their plastic utensils.

I prepare to spill the beans as I open my mouth, but before I utter a sound, a guy shouts from the corner of the cafeteria. "DON'T LET THE PSYCHO SIT!"

We all avert our gazes towards the direction of the shouting; find the boy who yelled; and follow his glare, which is fixed on the other side of the cafeteria. And there on the far right corner of the room stands Degrassi's infamous Rick. I watch as some of the students rise to their feet and guard pathways to tables. Three students on our side of the room are blocking the way, so Rick can't get through. We all watch as he wanders around the cafeteria with his tray like a lost puppy. Every time he encounters a blocked path, he turns in the opposite direction, which eventually ends up being him going in circles until he can no longer go anywhere because every path to a seat is blocked. I watch from afar. _No_ one wants him to sit with them. Eventually Rick quits and leaves the cafeteria, and a chorus of applause erupts as he's going. Then everything goes back to normal, and the air is vibrant with student chatter once more.

"Well that was very interesting." Queenie comments.

"That's what's driving me crazy!" I exclaim.

Ivory and Queenie both stare at me, silent.

"What, the Rick thing? I think it's pretty impressive how the majority of the student body is passionate about kicking him out." Ivory shakes her head. "It was a mistake for him to return."

"Why is this bothering you?" Queenie asks.

"Because," I say, "Even though Rick isn't a nice person based on what I've heard, is it right to just put him on blast for something he did in the past?"

"He did hurt a girl." Ivory points out.

"But does anyone know exactly what happened?" I say. "Has anybody ever spoken to Rick to get his side of the story?"

"What? _His_ side of the story?" Ivory says. "He put a girl in a coma; how much more information do you need?"

I shake my head. "You know what? Never mind: I'm the new girl, so my opinion doesn't mean anything at Degrassi."

I rise from the table and leave the cafeteria (with my chocolate milk in hand) and storm to the restroom. Does Ivory have to be so one-sided about this predicament like everyone else? I should have given her my ribbon.

As soon as I find the restroom door, I reach for the handle only for someone else to open it on the other side and crash into me, and the last thing I see is black and white checked squares. I recoil back, nearly falling, but the person I run into grabs my waist and steadies me.

The person who everyone wants gone.

I'm holding on to his arms so I don't stumble, and I look at him up close for the first time. Rick's frown has taken a permanent residence on his face, but this time there's a glint of surprise instead of misery. Who would've thought I'd be in the arms of the "psycho"?

"I'm sooo sorry!" I say quickly. "Did I almost walk into the boys' room?" No, this totally isn't awkward.

"It's alright." He replies. "At least you apologized." He looks away as he releases me.

"Well thanks." I say. "You spared me a humiliating experience."

Immediately I wish can I take it back. This guy has already had enough of those experiences to last him a lifetime in just this one day. Now I feel stupid.

"Bye." I hurry off. I could've used that advantage to ask him questions like I said I wanted to do earlier, but I can't find the courage to, especially knowing that everyone hates him for it.

Oh, Vivian, you're a work of art.


	4. Opening the V Can (Vivian, that is)

**"You take care of this...use your 'magic petite powers'."  
**

* * *

Today I've lost count of the anti-Rick points scored, and I have a feeling that I'm about to witness another one. As Ms. Kwan, my English teacher, goes through the names for attendance, she reads the name "Richard Murray", and goose bumps immediately cover my body. I'm trying my best not to focus on that. I remind myself that I'm excited about this class because of the assignment we have due: we're supposed to recite a quote that inspires us. Finding a handful of quotes wasn't painful at all, but choosing which one to share with the class was tedious. I'm sensitive about things like this, especially since Ms. Kwan wants us to explain why we've chosen our quotes. I'm a mushy person, so my explanations are always deep, but I decide that's better than it being boring. I feel as if I'm going to have the longest quote in the entire class, but it was my favorite of all of the ones I've found.

When it's my turn to present, which is right after Emma, I move quickly to the front of the room and face my audience. The kids remind me of a graveyard of tombstones: some are sitting up perfectly straight, while the others are leaning over, lopsided and wanting to collapse. To my surprise, Rick isn't among them. Oh well; he must've gone to the restroom. I read my quote by Marianne Williamson, "Our deepest fear…" I read with a solid, inflecting tone, and pause in appropriate places to season the effect of the quote.

"This quote speaks to me." I say when I'm finished. "I live by it every day."

"Very well read." Ms. Kwan starts applause, and the rest of the class picks it up. I sit down, feeling satisfied.

"Okay." Ms. Kwan says. "Who wants to go next?"

"I'll go." Says Spinner, and he trots to the front of the room. He clears his throat. "Okay, so we were asked to find a verse that speaks to our hearts, and this verse, by Kid Elrick, speaks to mine." He unfolds a crinkled paper in his hand and reads it:

_I wants to find me a girl to love,_

_A girl with wealth and class._

_But most of all, I wants me a girl _

_With a bootylicious—_

"Enough, Gavin!" Ms. Kwan interrupts him before he can say "ass." Real mature, that Spinner kid. Everyone bursts into laughter as he returns to his seat. "Who wants to go next?" Ms. Kwan continues.

"May I?" says a voice from behind.

I turn around and see Rick slowly rising out of his chair. He walks steadily to the front of the class, and everyone watches him, a loud silence filling the room.

"Um, I'd like to read you some thoughts from Mahatma Gandhi." Rick tells us.

I catch Emma from the corner of my vision rolling her eyes.

Rick reads:

_The weak can never forgive._

_Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong._

_It is the quality of the brave, not the cowardly—_

Rick is also interrupted: by a paper ball as it lands on his chest and falls at his side. The students are laughing again.

"Gavin!" Ms. Kwan yells at Spinner, and she sends him to the principal's office. Rick returns to his seat as everyone continues to laugh.

At first I'm a little annoyed at Spinner's cute little stunt because he interrupted Rick, but then my light bulb clicks. So that's why he wanted to return to Degrassi! Inspired by Mahatma Gandhi much? Maybe even the Veggie Tales' version of Jonah?

I don't have much of a brain cramp anymore.

* * *

"Vivian!"

I'm at my locker loading up my backpack when Queenie comes over to me. "Are you okay? I'm sorry if Ivory or I said anything to offend you at lunch today."

"Don't apologize." I close the door to my locker. "I just had a brain cramp about today. Now that it's been cleared up, I'm prepared for my next one: from homework."

"Fair enough." Queenie remarks. "Look, I want us to go to The Dot to make up for Ivory's mess."

I laugh. "Listen to you! Ivory's _mess_? And you don't blame yourself for anything?"

"Ha!" Queenie scoffs. "All I did was ask a question! _You're_ the one who flipped out!"

"Don't push your luck, girl." I shove Queenie. "Now take me to this Dot place."

We leave from the main entrance of Degrassi and cross the crosswalk on the sidewalk right at the curb of the school. We walk down the road via sidewalk to the end of the street, which is nothing but grassy fields and vacant lots, until we turn the corner right.

A small building comes into focus, with all of the windows and doors tinted, making the place look shadowy and secretive, just like America's Applebee's or Chili's restaurant.

"Low and behold: The Dot." Queenie says. "A lot of kids from school are seen here."

"Fun." I say. "Would you like to go in first?"

"With pleasure." Queenie opens the door and I follow her in. The smell of crispy French fries, hamburger buns, and fried chicken tickles my nostrils, and my mouth waters, even though I'm not hungry enough for a full meal. Sure; let's pretend The Dot is Applebee's for now.

To my astonishment, Spinner approaches us. "Ladies," he says, "if only you had showed up the other day when I was working; you'd have better service."

"Really?" Queenie replies with a smirk. "Should I tell one of your co-workers you've insulted them?"

I smirk as Spinner backs up. "Why not? They know I'm the best waiter working here."

"Uh, Spinner, remember your girlfriend?" Paige walks over.

"Spinner was just showing us some hospitality." Queenie replies. "You have _nothing_ to worry about."

"Hey!" Spinner says.

"No offense, Spinner." I say. "It's just a matter of respect; nothing against you personally."

"Don't worry: he gets it." Paige grabs Spinner's arm and they sit at a table with two other people who also look like a couple. I recognize one of the two as the jock guy from the other day. I've also seen the girl before-with Paige most of the time. She has dark skin and brown hair. Emma's also with them; her plane-Jane, conservative look makes her an outlier in Paige's high-fashioned clique.

We're seated at a table for two, coincidentally across from Paige's table, and next to the Alex girl's table. She's seated across from a guy with a black leather jacket and a faded cap on backwards. I assume they're dating. A waiter in an all-black uniform approaches us and takes our order, and I ask for a strawberry milkshake; Queenie asks for a large order of fries.

"Can I have some of your shake?" she asks me.

"Only if you let me eat some of your fries," I reply.

"Agreed," we both lock pinkies.

The Dot gets five stars for fast service as both of our requests come in less than five minutes. I develop an affair with my shake: the taste is thick, rich and fruity, and it's cool and smooth as it goes down my throat. Five stars for good milkshakes too! Queenie's shoving fries into her mouth, rolling her eyes as she chews them. "You don't know what you're missing with these fries." She says.

"Same with this milkshake," I reply.

We both sigh. Hesitantly, we trade food. Queenie asks for another straw, and stabs it into my shake before she takes a sip. Her eyes grow wide as she takes a long pause, and at first I think she has a brain freeze until she speaks. "Ohhhhh, this shake is heaven in a glass!" She proceeds to gulp until I tell her to save some for me. The fries are well-seasoned and fresh, but they just don't beat the milkshake. Four stars.

All goes smoothly at The Dot—then Rick walks in. He heads to the counter, sits on a stool and orders something.

"What's he doing here again?" Paige asks in her sharp, snooty tone.

"He probably came to see his new crush: Emma." The Alex girl chimes in.

I turn around. Huh?

"What's she talking about?" Paige echoes my thoughts.

"Nothing," Emma answers, like a little girl getting in trouble for placing her hands in the cookie jar. "Rick talked to me. It was no big deal."

"It didn't seem that way to me." Alex turns back around.

"If you're starting to wimp out and feel sorry for that psycho"—Paige says.

"—I'm not. Honest." Emma says.

I squint at Queenie. What could Rick and Emma have been talking about? Whatever: it wasn't a friendly exchange surely. Queenie shrugs and proceeds to drink.

"Okay, let's trade. I miss my soul mate." I take the shake back and sip from my straw. I can taste Florida, Hawaii, and Jamaica all at once: it's so tropical.

When I hear a thud and a splat, my reverie ends. I turn and see everyone staring at Rick on the floor. He spilled—I think his coffee—all over himself. Most of it, thank goodness, hit the floor. If Rick had been burned, everyone would've known.

He stands up, infuriated (who wouldn't be if they spilled hot coffee?). Rick angry, however, is terrifying. His dark eyebrows nearly form a uni-brow over his glasses, and he stands up, glaring at Emma.

"That's it!" The boy with the cap stands up and rushes at Rick. He grabs him. "It's on." He says and pushes him out of the door.

The entire Degrassi gang ditches their food and follows Cap Boy out of The Dot.

Queenie and I watch the commotion; jaws dropped, and then look at each other. "I'm worried about how that'll turn out." She says. "They could seriously hurt Rick."

"Well then let's do something!" I leap out of my chair and rush to the counter. Queenie follows the group outside. "Can I have a coffee to go?" I ask the person behind the counter.

"Sure." The coffee doesn't take long, and I make sure the lid on the container is secure before I pursue the group outside. As I'm walking, I call my dad and tell him that something serious is going to happen to a kid in my class, and that I'll bring him home with me so he can check him for injuries. Listening to shouts from kids as my guide, I stumble across a crowd of people in the back alley of the neighborhood right behind The Dot.

I use my magic petite powers—expeditiously now that I'm holding hot coffee, to work my way to the front of the crowd. I see that Rick, a few feet away, is doubled over and coughing. Cap Boy is standing in front of him. Clearly he just knocked the wind out of Rick.

Finally, he stands up. "Who wants the next shot?" he taunts. "Spinner?"

Spinner starts to move forward, but Paige stops him. Instead, Alex is the one who says "Me!" and rushes towards Rick. Emma, however, rushes towards Alex and grabs her wrist just as she balls it into a fist. She's blocking her path to Rick. I can't hear the words they exchange, but eventually Alex and Cap Boy walk away, as does everyone else as Emma glares at the crowd. As they disperse, Queenie is revealed and she walks over to me.

"I'll see you tomorrow." She says. "You take care of this." She puts a hand on my shoulder. "Use your 'magic petite powers'." She walks away.

Now all who's left is Emma, Rick, and me. I take a deep breath: I can't believe I'm doing this. Ignoring the sweat beading up on my face, I move towards the two. Both of them are staring at me, and that's when I realize that Rick's glasses are gone. His hazel eyes are pained and pleading. He looks pitiful, still hunched over from the punch he just took from Cap Boy.

I fish for words to say. "I-I called my dad on my way over here." I say. "He's had first aid training, and I thought he could check you over to make sure you're not seriously hurt." I look at Emma, who's staring blankly at me. "I told him we'd be at the bus stop a block from the Dot, so we'd better get a move on. You coming, Emma?"

"Can you stand?" Emma says sharply at Rick.

Wincing, he moves from the cardboard fence and walks forward. I lead the way out of the alley, and onto the front street which is across from The Dot. I begin to walk down the block, pausing every so often to make sure Rick and Emma follow. I turn the corner left, and find the bus stop. The three of us sit on the bench, with Rick in the middle.

We sit amidst an orange sky. None of us say anything as we watch the cars zoom past on the street—well, Emma and I watch the cars. Rick is staring down at his shoes. I steal glances at him, and each time he's zoned out, his eyes a million miles from Toronto. I imagine the guy has never been humiliated like this before in his entire life. He clearly isn't in the mood to talk, even though there's so much I want to ask him. I stay a good sport and leave him alone.

_Use your magic petite powers, Vivian_. Now the sound of nothing but the cars on the road is beginning to drive me insane. I want to do something to break this awkward silence. _The time has come. Do it._ _Stop thinking about it._

"Here." I say, and Rick snaps his head up. I take his hand, his moist clammy hand, and give him the coffee cup I bought for him earlier. He's frowning at me, probably baffled at this random act of kindness I've committed. I shrug. "Think of it as me returning a favor."

Rick's mouth opens as he prepares to speak.

"Don't thank me: just drink." I tell him.

And that he does. Emma is leaning forward on the bench watching him as I sit clasping my hands together. I've never felt so awkward than right now. I have to break the ice; I have to ask a question to get Rick to talk. "What happened to your glasses?" I say.

"Jay smashed them." Emma answers instead.

"Jay?" I echo.

"The guy with the baseball cap you saw." Emma explains.

I nod as I look down at my watch. "My father should be here soon." I say.

Like magic, Dad's blue mini-van pulls up in front of the bus stop. The window moves down and reveals my dad, a stout man with brown skin and hazel eyes. What do you know; there's no need to make painful conversation after all.

"Come on." I say to my classmates as I move towards the van. "Hi, dad. This is Rick and Emma."

Emma smiles and waves; Rick gives a half smirk and a nods.

"Nice to meet you both." Dad says. "You two girls sit in the back seat, and Rick, I want you to sit up front."

We do what he asks and soon we're off to my house. A part from my father asking Rick questions, nobody says anything during the ride. I think we're all taking in the bizarre turn of events that just happened in less than an hour.

* * *

Nothing serious happened to Rick as my dad checked him over. Afterwards Rick called his mom to pick him up. Soon after he left, Emma's mom arrived and picked her up. Now the house just has us: me and dad. It's been this way for almost two years with the exception of my older brother, who's attending his second year at Brown University.

Dad's sitting on our black sofa watching our flat screen. It's a quarter 'til ten, and I'm in my charcoal and blue Powerpuff Girl pajamas. I join dad on the couch and lean against his chest. He puts his arm around me. "Today was quite the adventure." I say.

"I would think so." Dad remarks. "You brought in two new faces, and by what that Rick kid told me then it's definitely been a long day for him."

"It has." I look up at him. "What do you think of him, dad?"

"Who, Rick?" Dad says. "He seems like a nice kid. He's a little on the quiet side, but he's definitely very bright."

"Interesting." I say. "Everybody at school hates him."

"Why is that?"

"According to the students there, he was responsible for this girl's comatose." I explain.

"Who's the girl?" Dad asks.

"I don't know." I say. "Apparently a good friend to a group of kids at school. I don't think she's there anymore—"

"—Then Rick has no one to hurt." He says. "I spoke with his mother: according to her, he's seeing counselors at school and going through therapy. Clearly he's not very stable."

"The students don't care about that." I sit up and tell dad the entire story about the student body trying to get rid of Rick. I tell him about the ribbon campaign that Emma started and how it publicized Rick's abuse. Then I tell him about all of the times I've seen Rick harassed by students in the hallways and why I believe he came back to Degrassi.

"I think he knows what he did is wrong," I say, "and he wants people to forgive him, and if what you say about Rick going through therapy is true, I think he's trying to prove to everyone that he's not a terrible person."

"What about you?" Dad asks. "Were you a spectator in Rick's campaign? Did you participate in pushing him against lockers?"

"What? No way!" I say. "I didn't know Rick before, so I haven't seen this 'psycho' that everyone claims he is."

"Has he caused any harm since he came back?" Dad asks.

"No." I say. "Not that anyone would let him."

Dad cups my chin. "You did the right thing by not giving in to peer pressure like everyone else. I want you to forget about what everyone else says about him and use your judgment only. Can you reach a conclusion about him based on your influence only? On what you've seen?"

I close my eyes and think about the few times I've seen Rick, and wished I had stayed with him while he was here, but unfortunately I had to do my homework.

"Yes." I open my eyes. "I can."

* * *

I find Emma at her locker the next morning. She's in a lime green, slim fitting pullover and black pants. I call her name as I walk over. She turns around and I hold out a dollar. "It's for the ribbon you gave me yesterday." I clarify.

"Keep it." She says. "I don't care anymore."

"You mean you don't care about ostracizing Rick anymore."

Emma pauses.

"Look, I couldn't help but notice you're not hanging out with Paige anymore," I continue, "and, no offense, but you really don't belong with her or her friends."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Emma says sharply.

"A good thing," I answer, "or do you want to be compared to girls whose heads are stuck so far up their butts they're too good to step up and do the right thing?"

"That may be true," Emma retorts, "but this doesn't change my opinion at all about Rick. And besides, they have a good reason not to step up: he hurt their friend."

"Maybe so," I shrug, "but I can tell just by your demeanor that you're not as shallow as Paige."

"How so?" Emma folds her arms.

"Because I actually like you." I say. "You can be a little annoying sometimes, but you're a good person all around." I chuckle a little.

Shockingly Emma smiles. "Fine. I'll admit I deserve that. Sheesh, you're more of a goody two shoes than I am."

I finger my braid. "Well I'm just—"

"No seriously." Emma says. "You made me look like a jerk when you gave Rick another cup of coffee after I tripped him."

"That was you?!" I say. "Then you _were_ a jerk! He could've burned himself!"

"Thanks for reminding me." Emma rolls her eyes. "Look Rick wants to thank you. He already thanked me earlier so…be prepared if he approaches you."

I nod. "See you in class."

"Right." Emma walks away.

Emma Nelson: I'm starting to like her a little bit more for being able to stand up to Rick in front of all of her peers. It's admirable. I smile to myself, then remember what she said about Rick looking for me and my stomach cramps. Oh no: what if he thinks I have a crush on him and gets the wrong idea? Nah, Rick just talked to Emma, and besides, he should know how lucky he is to even have someone concerned about him, let alone think about a new girlfriend.

Oh my goodness; I just had a bitch moment.

I make my way to my locker to dismount all of my items except for my textbook for chemistry class, and that's when I hear his soft voice.

"Vivian?"

I take a deep breath and turn to my left to face Rick. He's wearing a red and white-checked button down with a t-shirt the blend of a charcoal and a forest green. He's also wearing blue jeans with gray sneakers. The surprise is his glasses; the lenses are larger and the rims are a lot thicker than his previous ones. They're definitely from the _Saved by the Bell_ days.

"Hi," I greet him. "New glasses?"

Rick chuckles and a smile cuts across his face. "They're from the sixth grade." He replies.

"Wow, really?" I chuckle too.

He looks down and nods. "I um—I wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday." He inches closer, and I can smell him. Not that I expected him to smell bad, but I didn't expect him to smell…pleasant. Either his deodorant or his cologne bathed him in a scent of cinnamon and spice.

"No problem." I reply. "It was the right thing to do." It takes every ounce of my willpower to not lean into Rick and inhale him.

"You didn't really have to do all of that." He says.

"I know." I say. "Just like Jay didn't have to humiliate you like that. Speaking of which, is he the one responsible for your glasses?"

Rick holds his head down and nods.

"Seriously," I lighten my voice, "what happened to you yesterday was uncalled for, and I couldn't just sit there in The Dot and pretend that it wasn't happening."

Rick nods again. "Thank you, Vivian."

_Now's your chance, Vivian_. I think. _Ask him what you've been dying to know these past few days._

"Rick?" I say.

"Yeah?"

Now I look down at my shoes. "I—I'm new here, so I don't fully understand what everyone says about you…" I'm terrible at this. "About you putting this Terri girl in a coma…is that true?" I try to make my voice as gentle as possible.

Rick is giving me a hard stare. "Yes." He answers in a low, soft voice. He shakes his head. "I didn't mean for it to happen." His gaze is fixed on an invisible sight, probably painful memories from the past. "I let my anger get the better of me last year, and it caused me Terri." His voice shakes a little.

As much as I hate to, I need to ask him more questions. "But _how_ did it happen?" Again, I make sure my voice isn't pushy.

Rick closes his eyes. "I…was yelling at Terri while gripping her arms tightly. I was so angry that I pushed her down, and she—she fell and hit her head on a cinder block." He grabs the strap on his book bag with both hands and bites his lip. "When she didn't move, I thought she was dead. I remember thinking that I was going to go to jail, but when I found out she was in a coma, I visited the hospital every day until Terri's father told the hospital staff not to let me in." Rick's staring in the distance once again.

"So…you left Degrassi afterwards?" I say.

"I was expelled." Rick answers. "It's the best case scenario to happen to me; for someone to have put such a sweet, beautiful person near death…I felt relieved and remorseful at the same time."

I frown, taking in all of what he says. "So what made you decide to return?"

"To prove once and for all that I really have changed in the months following the incident." Rick replies, "And to return to a school that I really do enjoy…or used to. I didn't realize how many people actually hated me for what I did, but now that I know, I want them to see who I really am: not a horrible guy who hurts girls."

I feel goose bumps prickling across my arms. I was right about him. "Look Rick," I say, "I'm not here to judge you from last year because I wasn't here to see this 'psycho' people claim you are." I'm fidgeting my braid again. "But what I can do, based on what I've learned being at Degrassi, is judge you based on the person I see now, standing in front of me. I'm relieved to say that, just by your demeanor, I can tell that you sincerely are trying to change. Unfortunately, this isn't a popular opinion at Degrassi." I sigh.

"It will be." Rick replies. "Someday."

"I agree." I say. "But not today. I'm not saying that it's right for people to harass you, but…give them time."

Rick nods as the bell rings for class. "Crap!" I say. "I'm late for chemistry!" It's my first tardy of the year.

"With Ms. H?" Rick asks.

"Yeah."

"Me too." He says. "W-would you wanna—"

"—Sure." I walk to class with Rick.

Who else will?


	5. The Murray--Not the Adams--Family

**"A part from the city lectures, Rick isn't at all a bad person."  
**

* * *

Student Council wants to interview me.

The interview's on Friday—two days from now, and I couldn't be more terrified. I've asked Queenie, Emma, Toby and even J.T. to do a mock interview with me.

Did I mention I'm also emotionally unstable? This past week I've cried at least once a day as I think of my mother who passed nearly two years ago. The anniversary of her death is also this Friday. Since her death, I've cried every time I've had a significant event happen in my life: singing at a concert, giving a speech, going to my first homecoming dance. I don't know why this happens to me: I guess it's because I would come to my mother for moral support before she passed, and I've missed that. I know my father also has a hard time dealing with her death even though he's talented at not letting it show.

It happened during the mock that I had just before now. J.T. asked me a question about my support system and I burst into tears. Everyone was confused as they glanced at each other; I told them I was stressed out about the interview and apologized for the breakdown. All of them bought it.

All of them but Queenie.

I should've known I couldn't fool her, especially after she pulled me aside after we were finished with the mock. "I told you," she said, "that even after our brief time spent with each other, I know what's bothering you, and it's not the interview."

What was the point? Queenie's worrisome; she wouldn't let up until she got the truth, so I confided in her about my mother's death. She would be the first person I told at Degrassi about it. She widened her eyes and recoiled after I explained it to her.

"You never told me that she died; only that she wasn't in your life. I took that to mean that your parents were divorced." She said.

Another tear streamed down my face. "It's too hard for me to talk about." I began to sob again. "I didn't mean to keep it from you, but—"

"—Okay, I understand." Queenie wrapped her arms around me. "I'll try not to bring it up until you're ready to talk about it, okay?"

"Thank you." I said shakily.

With help from Queenie, my breakdown ended quickly. She fills the absence of a sister I've never had and almost fills the absence of my mother. Almost.

Now that I'm done crying, I've left the library and am on my way to Mrs. Kwan's class. I'm walking down the main corridor with silver lockers flanking either wall. These are the sophomore lockers, or as they say in Canada, Grade 10 lockers. I'm about to make a right into Mrs. Kwan's room when I hear a loud bang, like someone who slammed their locker door shut. Quickly I realize, as I look to my left, that that isn't the case.

Jimmy, the jock kid who hangs out with Spinner and Paige, is holding Rick up against the locker. He has him by the shirt with both hands, and Rick's sneakers are a few inches off the floor.

"I told you: stay out of my sight, and you won't get jumped." He says. He lets him go, and Rick falls against the lockers. Jimmy glares at him as he walks down the corridor and turns the corner out of sight. Everyone who's in the hallway that stopped to witness the incident has now turned back to whatever they were doing before.

It's been two weeks since Emma stood up for Rick in the back alley of The Dot, and since then, the random acts of harassment have died down, but students like Spinner, Jay, and Jimmy remind me that there are still people who hate Rick. Each still have their fair share of bullying him.

Rick has picked himself up as I walk towards him. I'm not the only one having a rough day. "Come on." I say. "Let's go to class."

Side by side, we clear the distance to Mrs. Kwan's room, and I follow Rick to the back of the room as we sit adjacently at a small table. Usually I don't sit with Rick for this very reason (I'm too short to look over the heads of the students in front of me); however he draws less attention by sitting in the back of the room coming in earlier rather than the polar opposite. Because we have a few minutes to spare, I take advantage of this opportunity to talk with Rick. I try to talk to him at least once a day, but lately I've been so preoccupied with student council business I haven't spoken to him since last Friday.

I pat his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Rick's voice is as high as mine's when he replies.

I nod. "Good." It's obvious he doesn't want to talk about what just happened in the hall; not that I blame him, but I wonder if he feels lonely: every time I see him in the halls, he's traveling alone, or even worse: he sits by himself in the cafeteria. No one's trying to kick him out anymore, but the only people who acknowledge he's there are the ones who bully him. Lately I've served as Rick's acquaintance, but I know he needs more than that.

We choose to talk about the easiest thing in the world: our reading assignment. There are no strings attached, and it turns out we're both obsessed with the plot of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. Rick's hazel eyes are bright and glossy when we discuss the irony of the play. Luckily our conversation only temporarily ceases as Ms. Kwan encourages us to work with a partner to fill out a worksheet about the story. Rick's an artsy guy in touch with his feminine side, huh? I'll log that away. Not long after we finish the worksheet, Rick and I veer off topic.

"Um…my mother and I can help you prepare for your interview." Rick says lightly.

He catches me off guard so suddenly I drop my pencil on the floor. "What?"

Rick frowns, confused. "Don't you have an interview with student council soon?"

"I do, but how did you know?"

"I heard about it from Emma and, uh, Toby." Rick replies.

Maybe he has been talking to more people than what I gave him credit for.

"I didn't mean to stalk you—"

"—No, it's alright." I say. "Sorry for not mentioning it to you. Just the thought of it stresses me out."

I'm clasping both hands in my lap. I REALLY want to be on the council based on my experience from last year. It brought me out of my shell, and diverted my feelings from the strong grief I was feeling for my mother's loss. Now I want to share that experience with Degrassi. _How_ I'm going to do that is still vague.

"Well, you don't have a reputation of being a psycho, so…" Rick lowers his voice. "You're better off than some people."

"Rick…" I look at him. He's opened his Julius Caesar book, but I can tell he isn't reading it as he frowns. "You're _not_ a psycho."

"Tell that to the entire school." Rick mutters.

"When I join student council, I will." I put a hand on his shoulder. "And yes, I would appreciate your help." I smile at him. He smiles back.

The bell rings, confirming the end of the day and everyone scatters.

"So when are you free, Vivian?" Rick stands up and straps his book bag across his shoulder.

"Now's actually a good time." I stand up with my backpack. "Do you mind if I practice this afternoon with you and your mom?"

"Not at all." He replies. "Do you want to…come home with me?"

I pause. For some reason leaving with Rick alone never occurred to me before now. I just hope no one bothers us as we leave the school. "Why not?" I say cheerily.

Rick smiles again with his cheeks bulging, making him look a little younger. Innocent. It's a sweet smile, and I'm surprised that he can appear so…endearing. I smile back. "Let's go then."

"Actually, I, uh, like to wait until the halls are empty before I leave." Rick says. "We can stay in Ms. Kwan's room if you want and do homework." He looks away, and it breaks my heart. I know why he wants to linger for a moment or so.

* * *

Rick sure can talk a lot. As he drives me to his home in a granite-colored mini-van (his mom's), he names every street we pass on the way there. Why do I bother telling people that I'm from out of town? A part from the city lectures, Rick isn't at all a bad person. When I ask what he's most passionate about (I've had enough of Tour Guide Murray), he tells me theater, and how much of a learning experience it's been for him and his mother. He tells me that he's been desperate to be a part of theatrics since he was five years old, playing Indiana Jones with his father in their backyard. I want to ask about his parents, wondering when he acquired an abusive streak, but I decide against speaking about it. This conversation between us is going too well. Instead I tell him about my passion for singing and making a difference in my communities. "There's oppression all around us." I explain. "I feel it's a crime to turn a blind eye on the many different forms of discrimination that's happening anywhere, especially The United States where our constitution explicitly states that all men are created equal."

Finally we arrive at his house: a brick, two-story structure with a triangular roof and a deep green door. There are two houses on either side of his that look similar, and all of the lawns are rich in green. Rick steps out of the car and quickly moves to my side and opens the door. "This is it." He says.

"It's pretty." I reply as I step out of the car.

"Ah, but you haven't seen the inside, m'lady." Rick offers me a hand and I take it. He squeezes mine so tightly that I waggle it in order for him to loosen his grip. Now I wish I hadn't held his hand: it's like we're a couple. Nonetheless, I hang on to it since he's doing me a favor, and besides, Rick deserves a friend.

"Don't worry." We're at the front door when Rick speaks again. "You're in good hands with us. We'll help you out." His thumb runs over the back of my hand rhythmically and I shudder. Either Rick's _really_ excited to have a friend over, or he's _really_ excited to have a girl over. Oh, that's right: I'm BOTH. Rick knocks on the door with his free hand and I can feel his thumb move down to my palm where he also strokes its surface. I look at him and he smiles at me. "Don't be nervous." He says.

I smile back. _Too late, Rick_. I plead for Mrs. Murray to open the door in my mind.

My wish is granted, and a tall, blonde woman is revealed. Her hair is a little past shoulder-length and flipped. She's wearing a short-sleeve black V-neck and black slacks with white, open-toed scandals. It's Rick's mom; I remember her from the first day of Rick's return. "Hello." She says cheerily, smiling at me. Her pale eyes are glossy, like Rick brought home gold.

"Hi, mother. This is my good friend Vivian." Rick introduces us. "Vivian, this is my mother."

"It's really nice to meet you, Mrs. Murray." I extend my hand, the one that Rick was holding, to her. Instead, she folds her arms around me in a warm embrace. Astounded, I hug her back.

"It's great to finally meet you, sweetie." She runs a hand through my hair. "Ricky has told me so much about how gracious you and your father were to him."

I nod. "It was the right thing to do, and besides, my dad has medical training, so I couldn't let someone go injured knowing there was something I could do about it."

"You're a good girl." Mrs. Murray says. "Come in, please." She steps aside, and Rick puts a hand on my back and leads me inside of his home.

We enter the living room area and sit on a dark brown couch with floral-patterned pillows. I'm sitting in between Mrs. Murray, who's on my right, and Rick. Suddenly he springs up. "Mother, you can talk to Vivian to get to know her better, and I'll get us some tea."

"I hate to sound rude, but can I have water instead?" I ask.

"Sure thing, m'lady." Rick says before he hurries away.

It's the second time he's called me that. I think it's kind of cute. It's quirky, but cute. I turn towards Mrs. Murray who says, "Ricky's very excited to help you." I now realize that she has an accent of some sort.

I smile at her. "I'm very grateful for what you and your son are both willing to do." I say. "Thank you so much."

"I should be grateful for all that you have done." Mrs. Murray puts a hand on the side of my face. "Thank you for being friends with my Ricky. Your father should be proud to have such a sweet daughter."

I smile. "Thank you." There's a lump in my throat: I can only imagine the agony that Mrs. Murray had to have gone through because of Rick. Does she blame herself for what happened? I'm floored by how affectionate she is: much like my own mother before…no, can't think about that. "I hope you don't mind me asking, Mrs. Murray, but…has therapy made a visible change to Rick? He's mentioned it once before, and I just wanted to know."

Mrs. Murray gives me a serious stare. "It was very frustrating for him to come to terms and finally accept what he did was wrong, and what's more was that he was a bad person in the public's eye. After he…hurt that girl, I took him out of Degrassi in order for him to get the help he needed. I know my son better than anyone else, and I knew those actions didn't reflect the sweet boy I knew in the least. Ricky feels the same way. He's been so determined to prove himself to everyone else, and I think it's working; you came home with him."

I soak this all in when Rick returns with a silver tray and shiny red teacups full of tea (and water for me). He places the tray on the brown coffee table and hands us our cups. "Your water at special request, Vivian." He says as he hands me my cup.

"Thank you, Rick." I say. "Now what was it that you both had in mind for me to do?"

"Well," Rick replies, "We figured that you could learn some acting techniques that can be applied to any type of performance if you think about it."

"For instance, breathing is an important concept to remember." Mrs. Murray extends. "It sounds silly, but you should remember to take deep steady breaths whenever you're under stress."

"The tonality of your voice is also very important." Rick adds. "Inflecting your voice while you speak makes you sound more interesting; engaged; enthusiastic, and so on."

I nod and sip my water. This is helpful: tiny details that I could look over might cost me my position on the council.

"Would you like for us to ask you some questions for practice?" Mrs. Murray says. "They're not necessarily ones that may be asked of you, but any questions will do to practice these exercises."

"Okay." I nod. "I'm ready."

"Just remember to breathe steadily." Rick reminds me.

Mrs. Murray begins. "Okay first question: tell me about your mother."

And then I burst like a water main break. I don't see it coming, and I can't control it now as tears stream down my face.

"Vivian?" Mrs. Murray frowns in concern.

My lip quivers. "I'm sorry." I manage to say before I start to sob softly. Rick edges closer to me and puts his hands on my shoulders. "Mother, can you get some tissues?" he says.

"Absolutely." Mrs. Murray leaves the room.

I'm alone with Rick who's rubbing my shoulders now. "Did we stress you out more?" He asks softly. "I'm sorry."

I want to tell him it's my mother's memories that are causing me to cry, but I shake my head, unable to speak. Fortunately I don't sob too hard, but I still can't talk as I start to take slow, steady breaths.

"That's right." Rick's encourages, "keep breathing steadily. It'll be okay." He rubs my back in circles, and it causes me to relax. Mrs. Murray returns with a blue box of Kleenex. She takes a tissue and dabs my eyes with it.

Finally I draw in a breath and speak. "Mrs. Murray, I promise you it was nothing you or Rick did that made me cry. It's my mother: the anniversary of her death is the day of the interview, and I can't stop thinking about her." My voice cracks on the last few words and more tears stream down my face. "It's so hard for me to talk about her." I bite back a sob only for it to escape. Rick squeezes my shoulders, and I continue to breathe steadily. It's working, to my astonishment, the more I concentrate.

"I'm sorry for your lost." Mrs. Murray says. "Would you like to go home?"

"No, no, I'm fine." I wipe my eyes and snivel. "I want to do this." I exhale. Rick's hand moves to my back again as he rubs it once more. "You asked about my mother," I pause, "but can I talk about my father instead?"

Mrs. Murray smiles. "Of course."

I begin talking about my dad, and the more I speak about him, the better I feel. Then I speak of my closest friends at Degrassi, Queenie and Ivory. As soon as I talk about old friends from my hometown in Chicago, I become animated again. During our conversation, Rick has gone in and out of the room to arrange hors' devours for us: crackers, grapes, and sliced apples. He personally hands me a green sliced apple from the silver tray before he sets it down. I sink my teeth into the very sweet fruit.

"They'll adore you." Mrs. Murray says when we're through. "Just be cautious of breaking down, and get it out of your system before you're interviewed."

I nod. "Okay." I stand up and wrap my arms around her. "Thank you so much. Sorry about my little episode."

"Anytime, dear." She pats my back. "I'll leave it to Ricky to get you home."

I look at Rick who bows. "At your service." He says and I chuckle a little. I follow him outside to the car, which is a shade darker due to the slowly-turning-orange sky. Rick opens the passenger door for me, and I climb in. By the time he's in the driver's seat, his mother has approached his window. He puts the keys in the ignition and the engine hums to life. Then he rolls down the window, and his mom kisses his cheek. "Drive safely." She says. "Good night, Vivian. Good luck with student council." she says to me.

"Thank you!" I say over the engine while Rick backs out of the driveway. "Goodnight!" The van takes us down the block and onto the main road. I'm the first of speak after several awkward smile exchanges. "I didn't know how much of a sweetheart you were until now. Thanks, Rick, for being so generous this afternoon."

"Thank _you_, Vivian, for letting me help you." Rick replies. "And I'm sorry about your…mother." Quickly he glances at me as if he's afraid of my reaction.

"It's alright." I say. "I've done enough crying to last me a month. I owe another thanks to you and your mother for being able to comfort me after that—spontaneous breakdown." I chuckle.

"Don't feel bad; I'm glad you were able to get it out of your system." Rick says.

We've arrived at my house as we pull into the driveway in front of the garage, which is alongside my dad's two-story craftsman cottage. The front of the house is sheltered by the roof sloping down from above, creating a cozy porch as one climbs up the steps. The house itself is made of wood while the porch surrounding it is composed of old brick. Green plants of all kind surround the house, making it appear secretive after twilight hours.

I unbuckle my seat belt and reach for the door when Rick says, "No, let me get the door for you." He takes off his seat belt and climbs out of the car, and I watch as he moves around the front and opens my door. He holds out his hand. "May I walk you to the door?"

I smile. "Sure." Slowly I place my hand in his and thankfully it's not a strong grip as I step down from the minivan and move across the path to the stairs onto the front porch. Dad hasn't turned on the lights yet, but it's getting dark gradually, and he usually has them on before now. Daddy...?

I turn and face Rick. "It's Degrassi's lost," I say, "if they don't know what a sweet person you are. I know that you're not the 'psycho' everyone thinks you are. Thanks again for today." There's something I want to do, but I don't want him to get the wrong idea when I do it.

"It's like what you said before: think of it as me returning a favor." Rick replies with a smile.

Ah, what the heck? It's the least I can do after this afternoon. I close the distance between us and hug Rick, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. My hug is only briefly one-sided when Rick slowly encircles my waist and pulls me closer, squeezing me tightly. I squeeze him back. It's a warm hug—just as I thought it would be. I can smell his hair as I rest my chin on his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow." I rub his back. "Drive safely."

Rick's smiling from ear to ear after we pull away from the hug. "Night, madam." He says and waves as he goes down the stairs. I wave back at him and watch as he climbs into his car. I listen to the engine awaken as I fumble for my keys in my purse. Dad, however, opens the door before I can take them out. He steps aside as I come in.

"Did he hurt you?" He says as he closes the door.

"What?"

"The Rick boy you were just with." Dad explains, "Did you feel safe around him?"

"Of course!" I answer. "He was very chivalrous this afternoon."

"So I saw." Dad sighs. "I should've known you would start dating boys sooner or later."

"Whoa, I'm not dating him!" I say.

"Then what was that hugging all about?" Dad says.

"Hey! You were _watching _us!?" No wonder the porch light wasn't on.

Dad shrugs. "I am your father, and you are a minor."

"Daddy," I say, "Rick just needs a friend, and I was thanking him for what he did this afternoon. Everyone needs a hug once in a while."

I can't let my guard down around dad (yet), but the thought DOES cross my mind every blue moon. Can Rick be trusted to date girls again? Is it too soon to conclude that Rick won't hurt another person? I can still feel his hands on my shoulders, my back when he comforted me while I was crying: his movements were rhythmic, gentle, and strong and assuring…

Dammit. Okay, so I like him a little bit, but I'm not looking for that type of relationship. I just want to be his friend, which he needs more than some girlfriend. I tell dad this.

"Okay." He says, "But should you go to the next level—and I know you will—I'm keeping a close eye on you two."

I roll my eyes. "Right, dad." Under the surface, what people say about Rick terrifies me now. I don't want to think of what he did to Terri just a few months ago and compare that Rick to the one I was just with. Unless he truly IS a psychopath and manipulating me into thinking that he's changed so he can strike again (man, that's a disturbing thought), he's a different person than what others have described him as. He just needs help—and a second chance.


	6. A Nancy Drewback

_**Notice: This chapter contains a snip of dialogue from Degrassi's "Islands in the Stream" episode. I want to clarify that I'm a disclaimer of all of the Degrassi characters from the show.**_

* * *

_**"**_**I'll leave it at this: you can either be friends with Rick, or me."**

* * *

Success!

I'm officially a member of student council. It terrifies me a little that Alex Nuñez is the vice president, but whatever; Marco's the president, so I'm relieved. I've spilled the beans to everyone I know: Manny and Queenie (double-hugged me), Ivory ("Congrats, girl"), Emma (pat on the shoulder), Toby (hug), and Rick (another hug).

I found Rick alone in the library when I told him, and he hugged me tightly. I took in the scent of his hair, which tickled my nose while we hugged.

"I knew you'd get in." he said in my ear.

"Thanks to you." I said in his.

I distinctly remember this moment because of what I saw once I looked over his shoulder. On the table he was sitting at laid a large, lavender poster with a green and yellow border and blue print.

"What's that on your desk?" I asked him. "That purple poster?"

Rick let me go and looked back as well. "Oh, this?" he went over and held up the flyer. "It's a poster for the Whack-Your-Brain tryouts."

"Whack-Your-Brain?" I echoed.

"It's for Degrassi's trivia team." Rick explained. "They do it annually, so I'd thought I'd take a whack at it." he chuckled at the corny joke.

I did too. "Best of luck to you, but you're a smart cookie, so what you need is skill. I believe in you!" I smiled.

Rick smiled back. He didn't speak, but his expression told everything.

_I like you too,_ _Rick,_ I thought.

* * *

Now, as I'm a part of student council, Whack-Your-Brain is the discussion item for today's meeting, which is in the gym, and all of the new members have to wear these golden, oval-shaped pins embroidered with the letters "S" and "C". As Marco discusses the different committees for setting up the show, one of the new members that I'm sitting next to hands me a lavender piece of paper containing a list—or petition. I glance at it: someone's collected twenty-six signatures out of...three hundred!?

I read the description at the top:

_Petition voicing student support to take Rick out of Degrassi_

Seriously? Even student council kids are involved in the anti-Rick movement? Still? I roll my eyes and pass the stupid petition on.

Marco announces the agenda for the semester. Next, the new members stand and recite the "Oath of Council" in order to be sworn in. It's a formal process in an informal setting.

"Alright, guys next meeting: we decide on our homecoming theme and our committees for the Whack-your-brain competition, which will take place in this very gymnasium!" Marco says enthusiastically. We all chuckle. "Have a good afternoon, guys."

The group disperses; I grab my backpack and make my way towards the door when Alex calls my name.

"I remember seeing you at The Dot," she says, "but not last year. You new?"

I nod. "I'm originally from Chicago."

"Where exactly is Chicago?" Alex scrunches her eyebrows.

"Uh, in Illinois. The Midwest: borderline east side of the United States."

"Hmm." she replies. "You said you served on Student Council, right? We could use your ideas from your outside student council experience."

I nod. "Happy to give some pointers whenever you need them."

I want to ask Alex about whoever behind the anti-Rick petition, but I decide to avoid that drama altogether. I really don't want to tick Alex off my first day being a part of StuCo. I smile and wave goodbye as I leave the gym.

_When will this nonsense end?_ I shake my head. This has got to stop.

* * *

Ms. Kwan wants me to deliver a bundle of worksheets to Mr. Simpson's class. Well today, he's holding auditions for Whack-your-brain, a term that's become all too familiar with me in just a few days.

I slowly open the door as Mr. Simpson speaks, "Ah, welcome to the annual tryouts for Degrassi's trivia team. Now I want you to all partner up, and we're gonna start with a little warm-up."

Slowly I walk over to him. "Mr. Simpson?" I hold up the worksheets. "You asked for these?"

"Perfect timing, Vivian." he replies and takes the papers. "Just when I needed these. Don't go away: I need you to take something back for Ms. Kwan now.

"And what's that?" I follow him over to where, coincidentally, Rick and Toby are hovering over one computer.

"What's the world's largest glacier?" Snake asks them.

As Toby answers, I glance at Rick's computer screen.

And gape at what I find.

There's a series of names on a list named "Top Twenty." And I'm ON it. I'm the sixth on this list of whatever we're being ranked. I don't know what to think. I'm even more shocked when I discover Queenie's name's there as well! She's number eight. And Ivory's here too? Yep: beneath me at seven. I glance at the five people who ranked higher than me. Three are Manny, Emma, and Ms. Hatzilakos!? What the hell!? All of these are girls' names.

"Vivian." Simpson says.

"Yeah?" I say loudly, making Toby and Rick snap their heads around. I smile at them, trying to act casual.

"The worksheets are this way." Mr. Simpson points at his desk and gestures for me to follow. I obey, reluctantly leaving the guys behind.

"Psst, Vivian." I jerk my head to the right and catch Ivory waving at me. I smile and wave back. Does she know about the list? Or anyone else associated with it? Nancy Drew's back!

"Here you are." Snake hands me paper-clipped, lavender flyers, like the one I saw Rick with the other day. "They're for her to give to Marco and his council in order to hang up."

"You know, I could hand these to Marco myself: I'm a StuCo member."

"Well," Snake puts his hands on his hips playfully. "Wouldn't that be so much easier? Now the burden's on you."

"No problem." I chuckle. "Have a good day."

I leave, thinking about the list. I want to talk to somebody about what I saw, but I have a feeling that list is not for the public to know. I pause. No way: did RICK make that list? Should I ask him about it? What's he ranking? Great, more dancing questions. Nancy Drew's second case is on the brink.

During lunch, I find Toby and decide to ask him about the list. Fortunately, he's alone. I hurry towards him with my tray and call his name.

Toby has this goofy grin on his face that I'm no stranger to. "You know, I'd thought you'd see what a catch I am."

I elbow him. "You clown." I smile. "Look, remember when I walked into Simpson's class this morning and saw you and Rick? You guys were hovering over a computer with my name on a list, where I was number six, and I'm curious: what were you looking at?"

"Who, me?" Toby adjusts his glasses. "I don't know; it's not mine's."

"Don't play dumb." I say, then lightly add. "Come on, Toby, give me credit here: my name's there, and I just want to know why."

"Fine." Toby smiles. "But I hope you can handle this."

"I'm certain I can." I reply. "And I won't tell Rick you said anything."

"Okay." Toby says in this "don't say I didn't warn you" tone. "It's a list Rick made of his top twenty crushes at Degrassi." he tells me.

"Top_ twenty_?" I repeat. "I didn't know someone could like that many people at once!"

"Uh, I think it's just all of the girls he's seen or knows," Toby clarifies, "and he has them in order of preference."

"Oh." How should I feel about this? Flattered that I made his list, or disgusted that he even MADE a list? Not to mention I'm his sixth choice, which creates more confusion for my emotions. According to Rick, I'm no match with Emma, Manny, Heather Sinclair, and some other chick I don't know, but six out of twenty is pretty high...ugh, I'm sick to my stomach.

"So...he has the biggest crush on Ms. Hatzilakos?" I say. "That's... interesting." Guess he has a thing for blondes.

Toby shrugs. "And you're number six, but personally, I'd rank you higher." he puts an arm around me.

"Um...thanks?" I shrug his arm away. "Look, this stays between you and me."

I walk with Toby to a vacant table, and soon we're accompanied by Emma. She has a large plate of salad, dominated by spinach leaves.

"Are you a vegetarian?" I ask her. I've never seen her with a ham and cheese sandwich, not to mention how skinny she is.

"Yep." she answers. "Lacto-Ovo-vegetarian, so I eat everything else but meat."

I nod. "Were you always one, or did you switch recently?"

"My mom's a vegetarian, so I've always been one." she replies. "Are you?"

I shake my head. "No offense, but I really love meat."

"None taken." Emma replies as Rick joins our table. He sits between Toby and me. I glance at him, and to my astonishment, his face is completely red as he scowls. I notice a large dark spot in the center of his dark blue shirt.

"What happened?" I ask softly.

"Jay." he retorts in a low soft voice. "He knocked my soup onto my shirt."

"Are you okay?" I say gently.

"In the end, I always am—physically anyway." Rick answers bitterly.

Immediately I think of the petition that was passed around the council yesterday, and the time he dropped his hot coffee. This kid can't go a day without forgetting that he's the "scum" of Degrassi.

_Why should you feel sorry for him? It's not like you're a priority to_ him! My deviant conscious yells at me, making me a little sour. _So the hell what?_ I counter. _He's a teenage boy with hormones just like everyone else, which is hard to believe when you o__stracize __him for business that's none of your own._

I sigh. The righteous side of me wins and I stand up from the table. "I'll be back." I say.

There's a t-shirt in my backpack that I use for recreational purposes. It belonged to my older brother, so it's HUGE on me, but I think it can fit Rick. I walk over to the double doors of the cafeteria and push them over, walking towards my nearby locker. It doesn't matter what he ranks me for as dating material: I'm his friend, and he needs me. I open my locker and pull the old shirt that belonged to my brother: a gray, crew-neck. I then make my way back towards the cafeteria, but before I can go inside, I find a girl blocking my path: Ivory.

I smile at her, only to stop when I notice she's frowning with her arms crossed. Despite the frown she wears, the ponytail she has makes her look fantastic.

"Hey." I greet her. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing." Ivory's sarcasm makes me nervous. "It's just that I saw you sitting in the cafeteria with _him._"

I sigh. Good grief. Calmly I reply. "Yeah, well _he_ happens to be a really sweet person if you take the time to get to know him."

"Really, Vivian?" Ivory shakes her head. "I thought you were smarter than that."

"Excuse me?" I say.

"Maybe you've forgotten why no one likes him," Ivory replies. "He. Put. A girl. In. A _Coma_! He's dangerous, Vivian, can't you see that?"

"I know." I say evenly, but sharply. "And what he did was awful, but he isn't dangerous."

"So you decided to befriend a psycho." Ivory scoffs. "A smart choice on your part."

I can feel my cheeks burning with indignation, and my hands trembling. "You're in no position to determine if anyone's a psychopath!" I counter. "And it just so happens that he _isn't_ one!" I raise my voice.

"Alright, fine." Ivory says. "I'll leave it at this: you can either be friends with Rick, or me."

I stare at her incredulously. Who does she think she is?

I answer, "Ivory, technically you do have a pussy, but you could still just come out and say that you don't want to be my friend anymore. Thanks for showing me how shallow you truly are. Now I don't have to waste my time with you."

I walk around her into the cafeteria, fuming after that confrontation. I try and keep calm as I sit down and hand my shirt to Rick. "Put it on whenever you get the chance." I say.

He looks shocked, then he turns towards me. "Thank you, Vivian." he smiles a warm smile; a sweet smile.

For the first time I struggle to return it. "Anytime, Rick."

Playing Nancy Drew backfires: I've sniffed out drama, and now I'm caught in the middle of it. At least I know who my real friends are.*

* * *

**Housekeeping: I've inserted Toby into this chapter, and it was fun writing the interaction between him and Vivian, if you're still reading, pocksuppet :)! Is the plot moving too slow for you all? I know I've written a lot, but there's still more to come. Hope you're enjoying it:)  
**


	7. The One with the Gold

**I appreciate everyone's feedback with my story! The plot for this chapter was difficult to write, but here it is at last!**

* * *

**"He's just as bad as he claims _you_ are!"**

* * *

_I am five years old._

_I take my brother's hand as he leads me down the stairs of the bus as it arrives in front of our home: a white, brick-faced house. Vince, who's nine, walks us to the front door that hovers above us, the afternoon sun sliding past the windows and reflecting the light at us. I always thought that was our house's way of welcoming us home from school everyday like a third parent._

_We needn't open our tall, white door as our mom is revealed on the other side, smiling with her pearly white teeth and thick, fluffy black hair. Hair that looks beautiful when she curls it every morning. Her brown skin seems glossy in the sunlight. I hug her. She smells of vanilla and coconut: that's the fragrance she wears, but I think of it as vanilla ice cream._

_"Mommy!" I cry in my shrill, five-year-old voice. "I wrote my whole name today at school!" I'm triumphant. Do you know how hard it is to write _Vivian Rosario Graham_ at five years!? I show mommy my paper._

_"Oh, you're a big girl now!" she squeezes me and I smile, saturated with pride._

_"Yeah, well I'm the only kid in my class who can multiply with fractions!" Vince boasts. That show off. He always has something better to tell mommy! No matter how much older I'll get, he'll always be four whole years older!_

_"Very good, Vince!" Mommy plants a huge kiss on my brother's forehead. She draws an arm around each of us. "I have two of the smartest kids in the world." she says warmly. "Let's go inside. I have a treat for your hard work."_

_Mommy gently pushes me inside, pointless as I race for the couch. "Take off your shoes, Vivian." she reminds me and I do in a hurry, tangling up my shoelaces in the process. Mommy turns on the television, and Vince's and I's favorite cartoon pops up._

_"Rugrats!" we both say as a moving image of Chuckie, the kid with the wild red hair, talks to Tommy._

_"That's not the surprise." I get up and follow Mommy into the kitchen. Vince follows me soon after as Mommy goes to the refrigerator and opens it. "One for you, and one for you." I can hardly believe it: we're holding Juicy Juice boxes! And it's apple—my favorite. I don't think Vince likes apple juice so much, but he's still smiling. "Thanks, mom." he says as he stabs the straw in the hole after one punch and sips it._

_Apple juice is a treat in our house because the juicy juice brand "costs too much money." The phrase is slow and choppy in my memory because that's the way daddy would tell me._

_I try to mimic Vince's way of puncturing the box; trying to keep up with all of the things he does is exhausting! He always makes it look so easy. I guess it is when you don't have baby hands like mine. I realize the difficulty when I try and jab my straw into the juice box for the first time: I make a dent. The second time: same thing. The third time—a little faster—I miss the entire box. Fourth time. Fifth time. POP! I puncture more than what I need on my sixth try, and red juice flows out of the box, like a river breaking through a dam._

_Wait a minute...red juice? I thought mommy gave us apple juice._

_An earsplitting scream erupts in the kitchen, piercing like a cross between a falcon and a cat. I don't recognize this as Mommy's until Vince cries, "Look what you did!"_

_I look up and see my mother with a large hole in between her collar bones—slanted and ragged like the one I punctured my juice box with. Dark blood rushes from the wound, rapid as if a pipe had burst. It soaks mommy's blue work suit, coloring it purple as it travels down like a waterfall. She chokes and coughs and more blood spills from her mouth. She collapses on the floor and the blood continues to flow, like a water faucet and it pools around her, staining the white floor. It spreads across slowly, expanding its artwork._

_Petrified, I watch in horror at my mom, coughing and convulsing at the same time. Lying in the dip of the kitchen floor that previously wasn't there, the blood level rises around her in a bloody bath._

_"Mom!" Vince screams at the top of his lungs. It's a scream I've only heard in horror movies I've seen my parents watch. Her entire body is engulfed in her own blood as it continues to rise around her. Vince then faces me and grabs my shirt with both hands, lifting my blood-stained socks off the floor. "This is all your fault!"_

_I let his words consume me as I continue to stare at Mommy, now only visible from the nose up, gurgling against her own blood. Her eyes bulge out at me, wide and terrified._

_"This is all your fault!" The words come out of Vince's mouth, but the voice is my own, reverberating off the walls as if they were spoken from a podium._

_"This is all your fault!"_

* * *

The cry still rings in my mind once I open my eyes with a jolt, and tears slowly follow. I'm all too familiar with this dream—this horror film that plays through my mind over and over.

But it's been six months since I had it.

The very first time it came to me was during the first anniversary of my mother's death. There were different versions, but the same confusing, gory plot overall. I stay planted in bed on my back as I let the hot, stinging tears flow down from my eyes to my ears. I reach down on the floor for my black raggedy-Ann (a gift from my mom) and kiss it for comfort. Six months exactly. Why did the dream come back? Six months I slept peacefully.

It makes perfect sense: the anniversary of my mom's death brought back painful memories from inside our house; the dreams started; I couldn't function properly; and we moved away for a fresh start. I remember my freshman year hastily preparing for my final exams that I had to take in April earlier this year. Vince had the convenience of going to Rhode Island to attend Brown, of getting away, but dad and I didn't.

The return of the dream just doesn't fit into this equation! I close my eyes trying to clear my mind, but I can feel that horrible dream waiting for me in the unconscious world, seducing me into reliving that traumatic moment, and I continue to sob in the dark until, finally, I slip into a choppy, but dreamless sleep.

When I wake up, I climb up into our attic: I don't go to the bathroom, I don't make my bed; I just move impulsively to the attic.

Our attic isn't the typical, pile-your-junk-ceiling-high attic. It's arranged much like a room forever waiting to be occupied. A reddish pink carpet blankets the floor. Along the two parallel walls stand two bookshelves crammed with all sorts of almanacs, magazines, and literary classics. A tiny, violet love seat sits in between the shelves, accompanied by a golden floor lamp, the shade the shape of flower petals, only an emerald green. It looks like a wilted green rose. On the opposite side of the love seat sits a small desk with a large photo of my mother, smiling with her perfectly straight white teeth and her big, dark hair and dark brown skin.

I turn on the lamp and sit on the couch, and come down on something hard. Startled, I leap up and discover a locket sitting there. It's cream-colored and embellished in shiny gold flowers, sitting in a navy colored box. I lift it up, shocked that it's heavier than it looks. Slowly, I open it up and find a photo of my mother inside, holding me as a baby. I appear to be about six months old wearing a yellow sundress, matching the color of my mom's dress, and wearing a white sun hat. I'm not staring at the camera at all like my mom, but I'm intrigued at the daisy she's holding and reaching for it.

Is this...for me? Instinctively, I fasten the gold chain around my neck. It is now.

* * *

I show my locket to Queenie when I stop at her locker during school.

"So pretty." she coos as she runs her fingers over the shiny gold while I wear it.

"Open it." I say softly.

Manny soon hovers over Queenie's shoulder as they both stare at the photograph inside. "Awwww." they say in unison.

I smirk and roll my eyes.

"You were such a cute baby!" Queenie squeals.

"Is that your mom?" Manny asks. "She's really pretty." She tucks a strand of her dark hair behind her ear, and I wish that my hair had so much volume like hers—and my mom's.

"Er...thanks." I say awkwardly.

"Do you have any other pictures of her before she-" Manny cups a hand over her mouth. "Oh, sorry, Vivian."

"Don't be." Quickly I change the subject. "My older brother is driving home from Rhode Island to stay for the weekend." I close the locket.

"Rhode Island, U.S.!?" Queenie says. "How long is that drive?"

"About nine hours." I say. "It's cheaper for him than flying in."

"What does he look like?" Manny's dark eyes penetrate mine like she's scaling through my thoughts to find his image.

I shrug. "Sort of tall. Sort of muscular. Curly hair. Nothing special."

"Do you mind if we stay over?" Manny's eyes light up.

"Only if you're interested in helping Mr. Graham _set up the guest room_." Queenie answers instead, emphasizing the mission for any visitors at our house this evening.

"Whatever." I say. "Flirt with him for all I care, just don't make yourselves look stupid, or I'm going to be the one who gets the questions later." I chuckle.

"Don't worry—we'll make you look good." Manny winks, then something catches her eye—or someone. I turn and see Spinner walking towards his locker. "See you guys later." she follows him.

I tilt my head towards Queenie. "Are Paige and Spinner still dating?"

She shrugs. "Last I checked. What's up with you and Ivory? Suddenly I mention your name to her, and colorful language comes out of her mouth."

My mood changes completely. I forgot about our confrontation just two days ago after thinking about my mom. I cling on to my locket. "She doesn't like that I hang out with Rick, so I ended our friendship."

"Oh." Queenie says.

I fold my arms. "Are you going to join the Anti-Rick Bandwagon too?"

Queenie stares at me for a few seconds, frowning as if she's thinking of something. Finally, she opens her mouth. "Rick was in my theater class last year. Both he and Terri—the girl he dated—before he...well you know."

I nod. "Is there a lot to the story?"

"I guess we can walk and talk." Queenie replies.

We head to gym class as Queenie continues her story. "Rick was so active in the class. The most of any of us. He was confident in answering all of Ms. Kwan's questions. Hell, he even gave his own input from his personal experiences. He was quite sure of himself—even a little arrogant sometimes."

"Really?" that sounds about right: the theatrics part that is. I think about the time when I rode with Rick to his house and how he ranted on and on about theater.

"But when it came to Terri", Queenie continues, "he was different. Every time he was near her he couldn't make eye contact with her. He was _really_ shy around her. It was cute. I have to admit: Rick had good taste. Terri was gorgeous."

I nod. I want to ask her what she looked like, but I don't want to ruin the flow.

"So when the two of them began dating." she says. "If I thought Rick was confident before, man did his ego grow!" she shakes her head. "I didn't take him seriously, but everyone who was around him thought he was weird, and that's all I knew about him."

"Did you ever talk to him face to face?" I ask.

"Sure: a few times when we did group activities, which was a lot in that class. Like I said before, he was really active, so it was sort of fun to work with him, but also so _irritating_ because he thought he was above everyone else in the class! I didn't like him."

"So...what's the point of your story?" I ask.

Queenie smiles. "If you don't see it, then I guess he really has changed."

I look at her, baffled. "Huh?"

"If Rick is still the arrogant, abusive know-it-all from last year, I feel like you would've made a comparison between him now to him last year, but since you didn't..."

"...Then he probably has changed." I finish.

"You're a smart girl, Vivian." Queenie says. "And if you say that Rick's not a bad guy, then I have to take your word for it."

I hug Queenie. "I love you!"

* * *

_I tell her. I tell her not._

I'm leaning against the wall besides the door to Ms. Sauvé's office. I want to tell someone about my dream from last night which also caught me when I dosed off at lunch just a few moments ago. I'm clutching my locket as I think of the bizarre yet disturbing vision. _Why did it come back?_ I slide down onto the floor and bury my face in my lap.

_If you were here, Mommy, I wouldn't have this problem. It's so hard being without you. _The thought alone brings tears to my eyes and I bite my bottom lip to keep from sobbing out loud. I take a deep breath and lift my head up when I see Rick from my right walking over. He seems occupied by his own thoughts as he stares downward, but when he looks ahead and sees me, he quickens his pace a little. Quickly I wipe away the tear that slid down my face.

Rick sits on the floor next to me. "I didn't know you were seeing Ms. Sauvé." he unstraps his black messenger bag. "Do you have an appointment scheduled with her?"

"Me? Oh, no." I force a smile. "I just need to talk about something."

"About what?" Rick says in a soft voice.

I stare at the linoleum. "I don't want to say...I'm not even sure if I want to talk to her about it."

"Take it from me, Vivian: it's easier to talk about difficult subjects." Rick says. When I don't respond or look at him, he asks, "I-is it about your mother?"

Briskly I nod, fighting more tears. I don't want to cry in front of Rick again, but I'm sure he knows I'm upset when he puts an arm around my shoulders. I hold his free hand with both of mine and lean my head against his shoulder. "Stay with me for a minute, Rick." I say.

Rick rubs my shoulder in response. "I will." he says tenderly. "I don't go in for another five minutes."

He's wearing that cinnamon scented cologne again, and I'm submerged under the scent now that I'm leaning against him. I want to think about something, anything else that doesn't involve the dream of my mother drowning in a pool of her own blood. I feel Rick's head leaning against mine as he gently runs over my shoulder; a common, comforting gesture and yet it feels so good...

"Wow. The psycho moves fast."

Abruptly I sit up as Jay, a.k.a Cap Boy, looms over us. He looks at me, gaze nonchalant. "You know, this is how they work: they treat you nicely, tell you sweet things...then they go for the kill."

"Jay, please." I say, agitated. "Leave us alone."

"Maybe you're not aware, but I'm the Hallway Patrol around here." He averts his gaze to Rick, eying him like a piece of meat. "And today I'll also be your personal body guard." Suddenly he grabs Rick by his shirt with both hands and pulls him up as he grunts.

I stand up. "Stop it, Jay!" I say. "Put him down!"

"As you wish, princess." Jay slams Rick against the wall with a loud smack, and I flinch. Rick slides back to the floor, biting his lip as if trying to hide the pain he feels. His gaze is fixed straight ahead.

I grind my teeth. "Go. Away. _Now_." My face is boiling as I walk towards Jay.

He glances at me, and the slightest hint of surprise is now replaced by amusement in his beady little blue eyes. "And who do we have here? The princess is defending her psycho boyfriend."

"I'm gonna count to one." I ignore his remark. "Go away _please_. Today's not the day."

"Rick's girlfriend is also psycho." Jay taunts some more as he crosses his arms. "It was meant to be." he grins smugly.

"One."

I grab Jay's sack so suddenly he recoils, but I don't let go even as he grabs my wrist. "Hands off my junk." He tries to sound tough, but his voice cracks under the pressure of my grip.

"What are you going to do if I don't?" I press harder, and Jay groans. "Push me? Slap me in the face? Then do it: Rick won't be the only guy around who would've hit a girl before."

Jay swings my hand away, face flushed a hot pink. "You'll regret that, you little bitch." He growls. Suddenly, he calms himself and grins. "But you're right. I can't do what I'm accusing Rick of, but no one gets away with making me look bad."

"I tried to be nice." I try and sound detached from Cap Boy's remark.

He moves towards me so that our bodies are only inches apart. He glares at me, and I return it.

"I go away when I want to, not when I'm told." his hand glides to the back of my neck, and the other grabs my cheeks with his index finger and his thumb as he squeezes my cheeks. "Don't forget that." He says. I can see Rick from my peripheral vision climbing to his feet.

I spit in Jay's face, and he turns his face away for a second before he pushes me to the floor and I cry out, startled. He walks away as Rick helps me to my feet. "You okay?" he puts his hands on my shoulders.

I put a hand on my pounding heart. "He's just as bad as he claims _you_ are!" I reply.

"Don't get involved with him, Vivian." Rick tells me. "I knew by the way he looked at you that he was going to push you. I should know: I did the same to Terri." he shakes his head. "Thank you for standing up for me."

I'm still shaking after the confrontation. It's more than just the physical harm: it's the psychological trauma that I'm suffering from. How Rick has to put up with this _every day_ is beyond me. He's seeing counselors because of his issues, but no one around here seems to care. Isn't it bad enough that he has to repeat the tenth grade?

I grab Rick's arms. "It's so courageous of you to come to Degrassi everyday despite everyone harassing you. How do you manage something like this all of the time?"

Rick smiles shyly. Suddenly he changes the subject. "Uh...Toby and I have this game going..."

"Huh?" I squint at him. _Where did that come from?_

"It's out of the blue, I know, but—"

"-Sorry, I can't play now. Gotta go to class."

I don't know what I'm thinking—maybe I'm not—but I stretch up and kiss Rick's cheek. "Thanks for comforting me...again." There: I justified the kiss. No need to feel awkward.

But Rick's grinning wildly before I turn and head down the hall.

I've moved across the clearing and start to climb the stairs when the bell rings. I reach for my locket—and find that it's not there. I scan the area around me as students begin to fill the halls. I start to retrace my steps and go back down the stairs to search the floor—least what I can see of it. Panic gradually fills me, and I walk faster in the direction I came from. In my haste, I bump into Emma.

"Sorry." I say. "I'm looking for a locket I dropped."

"A locket?" Emma repeats. "What does it look like?"

"It's a creamy color with gold flowers embroidered on it." I tell her. "With a gold chain."

She nods. "I'll let you know if I find it."

"Thanks." I walk past Emma and continue my search. My heart beat's accelerating by the second. How could I lose something so valuable so soon? I really want to slap myself.

I'm back at Ms. Sauvé's office, and sit down in the spot where I was only minutes before. I fidget with my shirt; I had my locket on in this spot, so I lost it when I was-

I freeze. Does Rick have my locket? The thought relieves me little.

As if on cue, Ms. Sauvé's door opens and Rick emerges.

"Rick!" I rush towards him. "Back just a few moments ago when we were talking...did you notice me wearing a locket?"

He scrunches his eyebrows. "I wasn't...really paying attention. Did you lose it?"

I put my hands on my forehead. "I just had it! And now I can't find it anywhere!"

I'm struck with a realization and widen my eyes, staring directly at Rick, but he's not the person I see.

"What?" Rick says.

"Jay." I say bitterly. "_He_ stole my locket!"*

* * *

**Housekeeping: I hope the italics in the beginning don't strain your eyes! I did it for the purpose of the dream.  
**


	8. Cap Boy's Deal

_Whew! I've been busy, and have long since had this chapter three quarters ready, but things came up! Anyway, behold the next installment, and thanks for reading!  
_

* * *

**"If he wasn't such an asshole, I'd like him and his twisted sense of humor."**

* * *

"Are you sure?" Rick asks.

"Who else can it be!?" I say. "We were sitting here-" I point at the spot beside Ms. Sauvé 's door "-you and I talked for a bit; the whole Jay thing happens; and then my locket's gone!"

"As logical as that sounds, especially knowing how Jay can be," Rick replies, "anyone could have picked up the locket. What does it look like?"

I tell Rick the same description I told Emma a few minutes earlier. I sigh. _This is not my day_. "It belonged to my mother's."

"Your mother's?" Rick's eyes bear into mine's. "So this is very special to you." He concludes in a soft voice.

"Of course," I shake my head, "and I'm so clumsy to I loose it the first time I wear it." My voice shakes, and I feel a lump in my throat. "It's like a lost another piece of her." My mother's locket, of all things, and I loose it! Look at your caring daughter now, mom.

"Hey, don't cry." Rick timidly puts a hand on my shoulder. "I'll help you find it."

This time I manage to restrain my tears. "Thank you, Rick." I say. "You're a great friend. Seriously."

Rick smiles shyly and looks at the floor. "I'll ask Ms. Sauvé if she's seen it."

"Okay." I nod. "Can you call me if you find out anything about it?"

"Sure. I just need your number first."

"I know." I reach into my purse and pull out a blue pen, then take Rick's left hand and write my cell number on his smooth, pale palm. "There." I say. "Just call me and leave me a voice mail saying who you are. I have to go."

"Sure thing, m'lady." Rick grins. "I'll see you later?"

"Yep." I scan the lobby before I walk away from Rick. "Where _is_ it?" I murmur to myself as I walk down the corridor on my way to my next class. I survey the lobby as I go. It's easy to spot that locket since it's fairly large. The fact that I can't find it anywhere confirms my conclusion that someone, if not Jay in particular, took the locket. Eventually I give up the search and walk towards my locker.

There's a piece of paper taped here, with sloppy chicken scratch on it:

_Want your necklace back?_

_Meet me in the front parking lot at 3p.m., and I might give it back to you. -J.  
_

That crazy thug! I KNEW he took it! I'll never figure out how he knew where my locker was, but it doesn't matter: he doesn't scare me a bit.

I text my dad and tell him that I'm staying after school for student council while I look for Jay outside in the parking lot. Soon I spot him in a gray-hooded jacket standing against a pumpkin orange car (_orange_, Cap Boy? Really?). Moderately, but not quickly, I storm over to him, who spots me from twenty feet in the distance. He stands with a sinister grin on his face that grows the closer I approach. He's clutching something in his hand, and it belongs to me.

"Hand it over now." Is the first thing I say when I reach Jay.

"What's the rush, princess?" The grin stays. "Don't I get a hi?"

"Please give me my locket." I say, a little softer than before.

"Fine." Cap Boy says. "I'll give it to you just because you said please, on one condition: you go out on a date with me to make up for your naughty behavior."

Infuriated, I dive for my locket, but Jay holds his hand up high. I kick his manhood and he doubles over, lowering his hand in enough time for me to snatch away my locket.

Jay grabs my arms. "Do you think I'm gonna let you hit me TWICE and get away with it?"

"Are you going to push me again?" I raise my voice, drawing attention from ongoing students. "In front of all these people?"

Jay smirks as he releases me. "No." he snatches my locket out of my hand, and I immediately reach for it, but he dodges every time.

"Jay!" I shout.

"I said I wanted to take you out on a date." Jay says calmly. He opens the door to his passenger seat. "Now get in." He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a lighter and flicks the flame on, holding it near my locket. "Or you can say goodbye to your necklace. Your choice."

There's sweat under my armpits as I watch the flame lap hungrily at my locket just inches above. Then I pout like a six-year-old. "If you ask me, _you're_ the psycho." I plop onto Jay's seat: the stupidest thing I've ever done.

"Good girl." he closes the passenger door, and that somehow releases a wave of panic within me. I don't trust Jay.

He opens the door to the driver's seat and climbs in. "Nice, isn't she?" he smiles at me again.

"I've seen better." I answer. "Let's go, Jason. I need to be home by five."

"Relax, this won't take long." Out of context, Jay's quote is terrifying.

_Maybe Jay isn't as bad as he lets on_, I think to calm myself. _Maybe he's just a joke_. If he wasn't such an asshole, I'd like him and his twisted sense of humor.

The moment Jay's car is traveling down the main road, I speak again. "Cut the crap, Cap Boy. You have a girlfriend. What do you want from me?"

"I told you: to take you out on a date, and show you the scenery, princess."

"Okay, how about calling me by my name: Vivian."

"Fine, _Vivian._" Although I just requested it, it's weird hearing my name on his lips. "Just relax. I'm taking you to my favorite spot."

_Who knows what that is_. After a while of driving along the street, Jay turns off the main road, and soon buildings and pavement are replaced by low hanging trees. Some of them are sprinkled with red and orange leaves due to the autumn weather. I can feel myself rocking back and forth as Jay's car travels over a rocky, narrow road, curving farther and farther away from civilization.

The road merges into an unofficial parking lot, which is really a grid version of the sandy, rocky road we were just traveling on. Jay parks his car here, and it overlooks a large grassy field that goes on for miles. I look out: there's an old picnic bench sitting alone, and there's a gathering of twigs, barks, and branches piled together a few feet away, clearly a bonfire nest. Beyond the table lies a dark, old family van, which looks like it was long deserted.

I look at Jay. "Congratulations: you've succeeded in taking me out into the middle of nowhere."

"Like it?" Jay takes off his seat belt.

I do; that it is if you take away the raggedy van and the beat up picnic table. The grass blades are mossy green in the sunlight, and its fresh smell greets my nostrils.

"Why do you care about this thing so much?" Jay holds the locket by the chain.

"Glad you asked: it belongs to my dead mother!"

Jay's expression softens temporarily, and it's a human expression. "Oh." he says, and for a moment I think he regrets taking me here, but then he says, "Fine, I was just bluffing with you earlier. I won't burn it, but we're still having our date."

He walks towards the abandoned van, and I follow him, having no other choice. He slides the side door open and hops on the platform. Shockingly he holds out his hand, and I take it, climbing into the van. It's a little rocky, so I plant my legs a part for balance.

What I see is bizarre: there's a large, blue and green rug covering the floor, and there are candle sticks arranged on some small, platform-like things. A few plush pillows and blankets litter the rug.

"What's this?" I ask as Cap Boy slides the door closed.

He sits and motions for me to do the same. "Where I only take special women."

I frown, but follow suit, and sit alongside Jay Indian style. I clasp my trembling hands. "Please, Jay. That locket's important to me. Let me have it back."

Jay ignores me. "Relax." He massages my shoulders. "You don't want to be tense during this."

I shrug his hands away. All of my suspicions of Jay are confirmed. "My locket, Jay." I say sternly, holding out my hand. "Give it back."

"How badly do you want it?" Jay puts a hand under my chin.

He wouldn't. He _wouldn't... _

He does. Jay kisses my lips. Instantly I jump back, but Jay pulls me back for another, and this time I let him. I can feel his hands slide my jacket off.

Very slowly, I run my hand over his back, and he grabs my hips, bringing me close until I'm right against his chest. I kiss Jay back, letting the moment rattle me like an electric shock. Jay's hand toys with the bottom of my shirt, and one hand glides up, his kisses becoming stronger, forceful. I feel against Jay's legs and into his pockets until I can feel my locket. As soon as I swipe it away, I backhand Jay with such a force I knock off his backwards cap.

"You're disgusting!" I cry. "Did you think I was so desperate to get my necklace back that I would sleep with you? Do I look like a piece of meat to you? A _prostitute_?" I stand up. "Screw you, Jay! I'd rather walk home than spend another second with you!" I grab my jacket and purse and slide open the door to the van, but Jay grabs my wrist and pulls me back.

"When I start something, I finish it." Jay kisses me again, holding me tightly. Forcefully, I elbow him in the eye and he cries out, holding his eye with both hands. I kick his poor sack for the third time before turning and leaping out of the van, sprinting for the trees. Some of the branches snag my skin and I bite back a cry of agony as I continue going until I'm out on the other side of the trees and on the rocky, gravel road.

I hear the rumbling of a car engine, and I continue to run, my heart accelerating. _Jay's in his car,_ I think. _He's after me. I can't outrun his __car. I _can't_._ The scenery of low hanging trees, breathtaking just moments ago, is now a terrifying reminder of how isolated I am from human civilization. Sweat's drenching my face, sliding down as I continue to run.

The engine's louder. But the sound's ahead of me, and suddenly I'm face to face with a granite-colored mini-van. I scream as the van screeches to a stop.

"Vivian!" The passenger door opens and Queenie pops out, eyes wide. "You okay?"

I can barely speak as I gasp for breath. My lungs feel like cement blocks burning in my chest. "Jay...he's after me. We need to go."

"Get in!" Queenie nudges me towards the backseat door and I open it, sliding in. Queenie quickly climbs in the passenger seat. "Turn around!" She says to the driver after I close the door. I jump as I realize it's Rick.

He makes a sharp turn left, then backs up until he can make another left, heading in the opposite direction at a sharp speed. I close my eyes as the car sways on the uneven gravel. I want away from this scenery. Away from Jay. I focus on catching my breath and take them in long and steady.

"Are you okay, Vivian?" Queenie asks me again.

I can hear the beating of my thudding heart. "Fine." My voice quivers as I exhale.

"No one's following us." Rick says to Queenie, and I catch his gaze as he looks through the rear-view mirror. I look away, embarrassed. "Where to?" he asks Queenie.

"To Vivian's, obviously." She replies. "Her brother's going to be home, and she needs to be there."

"You have a brother, Vivian?" Rick looks at me again through the mirror.

"Yeah. He's in college." I say quickly while breaking my gaze from him.

Queenie faces me. "We'll talk when we get there. You know the way right?" She asks Rick.

"Yeah." He replies.

"Queenie, I'm fine. Really." I say.

"Yeah, we noticed." She says. "You don't have to lie, Vivian. Clearly you don't want to talk about this now, and I understand."

I blow a strand of hair out of my face.

"You know, on the way to get you, Rick and I discovered we had something in common: we can both read you like a book."

"Joy." I roll my eyes.

"Hey, I'm just saying," Queenie looks at me through her mirror. "If you don't want to talk to me, I understand. It's just like I said before." She grins at me. "That is...unless you'd rather talk to Rick."

"Queenie!" I raise my voice, and Rick flinches. "Sorry." I say to him.

"Don't be." He says softly.

I steal glances at him through the rear-view mirror. Is his face rosy again? I think it's cute when he blushes.

Never have I been so grateful to have good friends until now. I'm with Rick and Queenie, and we're going home. Everything's okay now.

I wish I could fool myself that easily.

* * *

It's not entirely surprising that Vince is the one to answer the door.

"Brother: my friends, Queenie and Rick. Queenie and Rick: brother."

"That's right, my name's Brother. Brother Vince." he plays along. "Genius at your service."

"More like know-it-all, but interpret it how you wish." I say as the three of us walk into my house.

"Your hair's just as curly as mine's." Queenie takes my brother's hand followed by Rick's after we enter the house.

"Seems like I was worried for nothing." Vince says. "You've made good friends it seems."

"Well _yeah_. I'm not anti-social." I smirk. "Guys," I address Queenie and Rick, "there are snacks in the fridge if you're hungry. I'm going to go change."

"I'll come with you." Queenie says. "You guys, on the other hand, can have some bonding time. Who knows: you might find that you have things in common with each other." She nods at Rick and my brother.

I feel like a dirty rat. I have to shower _now_, and wash all traces of Jay Hogart off my body. I rush up the stairs with my best friend hard on my heels.

As soon as the door to my bedroom is tightly shut, I talk to Queenie. "I can't go back to Degrassi now!" I say and wrap my arms around her.

Telling her about Jay is like releasing water pressure. I go through everything: how he took me to a local park; how he wanted to invade my pants in exchange for my locket. All are things that I can't tell dad without attracting the attention of nearly everyone in the school and possibly the city.

"He wouldn't take no for an answer." I say from my closet as I strip off my clothes and put on my light blue bathrobe spotted with red roses. "But I got away from him. I don't think he was interested in chasing me," I emerge from my closet, "or else you and Rick would've spotted-"

"Hey, what's that stain I see on your robe?" Queenie says.

"What? Where is it?" I sit on my bed and search for the stain.

"It's right here." Queenie bends down and lifts the robe off of my left leg.

Partly shocked, disgusted, and fascinated, I stare at the apparent long gash on my shin with dark blood oozing out of it like a brook.

"Holy cow: you're BLEEDING!" Something I never would've guessed if she hadn't pointed it out. "You need to put some ointment on this now!"

"Whoa." I say as if I'm looking at an exhibit. "I don't even remember when I got this strangely enough." I walk into the bathroom to wash off the wound. My own private bathroom: something new I've received since the move, but it's still too much for me to take in. No way, however, am I going to share a bathroom with my dad after this!

"Do you want me to get Rick in here so he knows that you're okay?" Queenie calls after me.

"Queenie, shut up." I chuckle.

"What, do you think I'm blind?" She continues. "You two are totally digging each other, and neither of you will own up to it. It's like a waiting game to see who will make the first move."

"So you think you know everything, eh?" I'm morphing into the stereotypical Canadian. "How did you guys find me anyway?"

"Glad you asked." Queenie grins a playful, but evil, grin. "Rick saw you rush off with Jay, or so he said, when I ran over to him asking him where you were. We promised to go to your house immediately after school, remember? So anyway, he was really worried about you." She moves towards me. "REALLY worried about you." She flicks my hair.

"Stop it." I move her hand away.

"I see you smiling." She sings.

"So...you were able to follow Jay out to the park?" I change the subject. "But you guys were so far behind us."

"Rick wanted to follow Jay right away, but I suggested we waited a little. Rick memorized the path Jay took the moment he pulled out of the parking lot."

I sigh. "I don't want to think about what Jay would've done if you guys weren't there for me." I shudder at the thought. It's bad enough that I lost my first kiss to Jay of all people: I can still feel his lips on mine. At least, as disgusting as it was, he knew how to move his lips. Ugh...my stomach...When will be the next time I feel clean?

"You need to tell an adult about this. Anyone, if you can't tell your father." Queenie says.

"Nothing happened out there." I counter. "And I've already told _you_. That's good enough. I don't want to attract more attention to this than needed."

"Fine." Queenie shrugs. "Just a suggestion, but you're right-about what you said earlier, that is. If we weren't there to save you..."

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Thanks, sister." I kiss her forehead. "I'm going to go shower. Now."

"Are you going to kiss Rick like you kissed me?" Queenie taunts again.

I look at Queenie and smile. "Of course not!" _A kiss on the _forehead_ isn't what I have in mind._

* * *

I settle for black slacks and a mint green blouse as I join everyone else, including Queenie, downstairs. There's an explosion of laughter as I walk in on Dad, Vince, Rick, and Queenie playing spades.

"Ha, ha ha!" I didn't know Rick had an evil cackle. "Didn't think we'd win again, did you?"

"I let you have that game." Dad says. Typical.

"This is horrible." Queenie says. "All I suggested was that Vince and Rick talk to each other. I didn't know that would come back to haunt me!"

"Hard to admit that Rick and I are unstoppable, huh?" Vince winks at Queenie.

"Whatever." She sighs. "Let's play again."

"In a moment." Vince hops up from his seat. "I need to talk to Viv first."

"Good, go bond with your actual kin." Queenie makes a shooing motion with her hands.

"And Queenie and I will come up with a strategy." Dad and Queenie step away from the table.

"I'll be back, Rick." Vince and I walk into the kitchen. "I didn't get the chance to talk to you tonight. I was really worried about how you'd adapt here." He glances around the kitchen. "The drive up to Toronto was surreal."

"Everything's fine, Vince. Promise." I say cheerily.

"Not having those weird dreams are you?" Vince frowns at me like a concerned parent. I guess he kind of is with the absence of mom and all.

As soon as I shake my head, Vince comes closer. "Stop lying."

Damn. Isn't there anyone I can fool? I glare at my brother.

"Come on, Viv, I promise I won't tell anyone." He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Don't be like dad on matters like this: you know he won't say anything about how mom died."

"I know." I snap. "I just...don't know why they came back." I toy with a strand of my black hair.

"I thinks it's the change in environment." Vince says.

"If that was the case, I would've had them consistently, non-stop. The dreams _did_ stop, but they came back as of last night."

"That is weird." Vince comments. "Anything significant happen at school?"

I scale my thoughts. "Not really."

"You sure?" He asks.

"Sure I'm sure." I say.

"Huh. Okay." Vince replies. "That Rick guy is something." he mutters.

"I know." I say. "He has an interesting background."

"Interesting, you say?" Vince crosses his arms. "When I asked Rick to tell me about himself, all I got was some lame tangent on theatrics."

I laugh. "Yeah, that sounds just like him. What he didn't tell you is what he's ashamed of."

"Ashamed of what?" Vince presses.

"It's not my business to tell, but all I'll say is that he had problems in a previous relationship, and it, like, branded him a label from the entire school."

"How so?" Vince asks.

"Well, hardly anyone wants to be associated with what he did last year, and he's been an outcast his first few weeks."

"Hmm..." Vince stares down.

"What?"

"Maybe that's why your dreams returned." Vince explains.

"What led you to _that_ conclusion?" I squint at him. Fun fact: Vince is clueless about reading girls about guys, the one thing that I can get away with.

"Didn't dad talk to you about mom's...past?" Vince asks.

"Uh...no? Is there something I should know about it?"

"I'd ask dad first only because he knows more about it than I do." Vince answers. "But first, I'd like to know about Rick's past."

I smile. "I'd ask Rick first only because he knows more about it than I do."

Vince nudges me. "Okay. You got me."

"Just...be a big brother to him like you are to me, and maybe he'll open up to you." I say. "It's just that I want him to tell his own story, and not anyone else to. That's a huge problem for him at Degrassi. He doesn't have a chance to explain his own actions."

"Yeah, talk to dad soon." Vince says. "This is _so_ much like mom's story."

I squint. "That worries me."

"Yeah, well..." Vince looks ahead. "I was shocked too when I found out."

I take his hand. "It's good to see you."

"You too." he says, smiling warmly.

"I know you hate when I say this, but I love you." I say.

"For the record, I don't _hate_ hearing you say that; I'd just prefer a different choice of words. You should've just stuck with 'It's good to see you'."

I roll my eyes. "You're so difficult." Apparently my entire family is too. There's more to mom's story than what I've been told. How is that? _Why_ is that?

I walk out with Vince to the dining area where Rick's shuffling the cards.

I guess he did somehow trigger the return of my dreams.*

* * *

**The origin of Jay bringing girls to the ravine. Hope that storyline isn't cliché for you all!**


End file.
